


reelin' through the midnight streets

by animmortalist



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: 80s-90s nyc, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Inspired by Music, Inspired by Rent, Mutual Pining, New York City, Running Away, TW drug addiction, like painnnnnnnnnnn, tw HIV/AIDS, tw abuse, tw drug use, tw petty crimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24201970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animmortalist/pseuds/animmortalist
Summary: Clarke grows up alongside Bellamy and Octavia in Arkadia Springs Trailer Park. But when her tumultuous relationship with her mom finally becomes too much, she decides her only option is to leave. So, what does she do as a rational eighteen-year-old? Runaway to New York City, of course. But if she's going, then there's no way in hell that Bellamy and Octavia aren't going too.***on extended hiatus***
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 44
Kudos: 50





	1. Dreamin' is Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic was originally posted and then taken down by me, but I've decided to repost the two chapters I published and get it going again.
> 
> this story will deal with heavy themes, but I will be sure to give warnings in the notes and tag appropriately. this chapter does have a scene that features abuse, but I've done my best to keep it from being graphic or harmful to readers. 
> 
> that said, this is also really a fic about finding yourself and living in the moment and has some true happiness embedded in it, and I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> thank you so much.

_1988_

The smell of Abby’s vomit fills every dusty crevice of the double-wide trailer Clarke Griffin's called home for the past eighteen years. 

They’ve lived in Arkadia Springs Trailer Park since before she was born, moving in after her grandma kicked her mom out when she got pregnant. They used to just have a single, but then Wick decided to move into the motel right off the highway. He sold them his for cheap as shit, but even then, Bellamy helped her scrape together enough money to afford it. Abby doesn't care one way or the other, but Clarke does. It didn’t change much, but at least with the addition, she has her own room. She can find some kind of privacy. Especially when her mom falls off the wagon. Which she most often does, these days. 

As she wipes up her mother’s sick, she thinks about the grease that builds up on the stovetop at her job at Jaha’s, the diner where she’s worked since Bellamy vouched for her and Octavia to get jobs. The intention was to keep them out of trouble when they were fourteen. Little good that did them. They still found a way of getting into all sorts of mayhem they could find in their small town. Most of the time Bellamy was right there beside them though, so the lectures were kept to a minimum.

Before she got the job, she'd been going to the diner for years. It was where she met her best friend Wells. At least, he had been until they turned nine. Then Wells’ mother decided Thelonious Jaha had gotten a little too into his new born-again Christian girlfriend and moved to Cincinnati with Wells in tow. 

Clarke dumps a bundle of paper towels into the trash and thinks about how much each piece costs. With her luck, the Stop n Save will have another sale and she’ll be able to stock up again. They’re almost out, even though she splurged for a twelve-pack just last month. Really, she should just use rags. But then, she would want to wash them separately from the rest of their clothes when she goes to the cheapest laundromat on Oak Lane, and that would cost extra money, too. So, really, no matter what she chooses, she’s fucked. 

From where she’s passed out on the couch, Abby moans in her sleep. She brings her hand to her chest and clutches her sweat-stained tank top, the move oddly childlike and innocent. Skin glistening in the heat of June. Collarbones clearly exposed. Though not from an empty fridge, this time. Clarke swallows. She sprays more disinfectant onto the fake tile of the small kitchen. Then goes back to cleaning. 

Losing Wells devastated her, and not long after, her dad died in a car wreck. Not that she saw him that often since his visitation wasn’t great. Still, her dad was more dependable than her mom, and his loss on top of Wells’ was more than she could bear. Or so she thought. 

For the whole summer leading up to fourth grade, Clarke felt like her life was truly over. Her mom was getting high every night, and bringing home groups of strangers. Often, she told Clarke to get lost while they partied. 

As she continues to mop at the floor, her thoughts drift to the future she craves. One with the lights of the city in her eyes and music in bars she's read about in the zines she gets delivered. Her artwork hung in galleries in Manhattan. A world where she’s someone. Not even necessarily someone important. Just someone other than who she is now. She thinks if she could only be different, then maybe happiness wouldn't be so unattainable.

And of course, Bellamy and Octavia are there, too. 

_1979_

One August night, about a week before school started, Clarke takes some supplies and goes to sleep outside behind their trailer. Inside, it stinks of pot and she doesn't recognize half the people her mom's invited over. She lays herself out on the old fuzzy purple blanket with yellow stars on it, staring up at the real ones in the sky above her. 

Out here, in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, the stars are always visible. The endless inky night sky makes the stars look like bits of sparkles on a midnight blue piece of cloth. Her dad once pointed out all the constellations to her. She feels like she’s already forgetting them, even though he’d only died two months ago. Her chest aches with a feeling she doesn’t yet have a word for, but she would, eventually. As she’s trying to figure out if she's looking at the Big Dipper or the little one, a girl’s voice rings out amongst the crickets. 

“That’s mine you jerk!” the girl exclaims. 

Clarke scrambles to her feet as Dax and a small dark-haired girl come into view. Dax, of course, she recognizes. The girl she doesn’t. And she knows everyone who lives in Arkadia Springs. Or, at least, her section of it. So, either she doesn’t live there, or she's new. She looks a little younger than Clarke. Scratches that are probably from Dax run up and down her skinny arms. But there’s fire in her blue eyes, especially when they flash to the object in Dax’s hand. 

It’s a blue bunny. It has a tattered ribbon around its neck that must’ve once been white but now is a light grey. It isn’t a surprise he took it. He’s been known to steal other kids’ toys for years now. Not because he wants them, but because he likes to watch the other kids get upset when he inevitably destroys their most prized possessions. Dax is the biggest bully in her cluster of trailers, and Clarke has had more fights with him than she can count. 

“He stole from me,” the girl practically snarls.

Clarke knows the girl is the fighting type, too, without even having to see the evidence for it. 

“Give it back, Dax,” Clarke warns. 

She might be significantly smaller than him, but she’s managed to hold her own in most of the fights she’s gotten into. 

He cuts her a dismissive look. “Stay out of this junkie.” 

Clarke narrows her eyes and leaps for the bunny, but Dax is too quick. He dodges her and then whips around and pushes her hard with his free hand. She stumbles back a bit but is relieved she doesn’t fall. 

Dax then turns his attention to the other girl. He waves the stuffed animal in the air, daring her to come after it. Before Clarke can warn her not to, she falls for it and goes storming towards him. He pulls the same move he did on Clarke, except the girl wasn’t expecting it, and he sends her slamming hard into the dirt.

“Hey! Jackass!”

Clarke whips her head towards a row of trailers for the voice. It isn’t one she recognizes either. Out of the shadows of the trailers, a boy comes barreling past her and into Dax. She can’t make out many details about him. But he is smaller than Dax, though certainly bigger than her. 

“Bellamy!” The dark-haired girl shouts from where she’s still on the ground. 

Clarke notes the mix of disdain, worry, and even pride in her tone as the two boys roll around on the grass, fighting for the stuffed animal. They try to land blows the best they can, and the boy the other girl called Bellamy might be smaller, but also seems to be a better fighter. For just a moment, Dax releases his grip on the bunny and it falls from his hand. Neither one of the boys seems to notice. As quickly as possible, Clarke snatches it from the grass. 

Turning back to the dark-haired girl, she offers her a hand. When she doesn’t take it, her eyes on the precious object in Clarke’s hand, she reaches that out instead. The girl takes it and then extends her hand slowly as if she doesn’t trust her not to shove her back down. Clarke wants to roll her eyes at the dramatics of it, even at the age of nine, but she relents and helps the girl to her feet. 

Behind her, she can hear Dax and Bellamy continued fighting.

“I’m Octavia Blake,” the girl says.

Clarke frowns. She’d never met any other girl with that kind of name before. But then again, she’s never met any girl with her first name, either. 

She nods. “Clarke.” She doesn’t know if she wants to give her last name yet, since surely, even if they are new to the trailer park, they've heard about the Griffin trailer. And what happens there. 

Then Octavia’s eyes go wide and her mouth opens, but Clarke hits the ground with something, or rather, someone, on top of her before she can hear her say anything. 

“Stupid slut!” Dax exclaims as he pins her down, a common insult from him. He once called Sterling a slut because he loves Space Invaders. 

Besides, Clarke knows she isn’t a slut, because her mom is a slut, according to everyone. She hasn’t done half the things her mom has. She also looked up the word in the dictionary, though she didn’t really understand what it’d said. When she told her second-grade teacher, Ms. Cartwright, that Dax continued to call her a slut, she told Clarke that he just said those things because his dad said them. She made sure to note that he probably didn’t know what it meant. Clarke was unimpressed. So, then her teacher asked her if she had done anything to deserve it, and maybe she should think about her own behavior. That's the last time she brought up being bullied to an adult. She learned if you wanted to deal with a problem, you dealt with it on your own. 

Not that it makes the taunting about her and her mom any better. 

Dax uses one hand to keep her hands from ripping him to shreds as he lands blows to her stomach with the other. Clarke thinks Bellamy and Octavia must’ve taken off. This isn’t their business anyway. They don’t even know her. She tries curling into herself, so the blows don’t have as much impact. He makes the mistake of letting his arm get too close to her mouth and she fixes her teeth on the skin there and bites down as hard as she can. 

“Shit!” Dax curses. He looks at her with sheer venom in his eyes. “I'm gonna kill you!”

The rage in his eyes makes Clarke believe it. 

But as he goes to land another punch, he’s tackled off of her. Surprised and dazed, it takes her a moment to realize what must’ve happened. She manages to sit up enough to see Bellamy punch Dax right in the face. Octavia does her part too, landing a straight kick to the other’s groin. Bellamy doesn’t stop though, not even after Dax says that he gives up. 

“Bellamy you better stop, you don’t want Terry to find out,” Octavia says.

Bellamy curses under his breath, but he lets Dax go, the other scampering up and limping away, vowing that they were all going to get the shit beaten out of them as revenge. 

“I’d love to see you try!” Octavia calls, rather gleefully, at the boy’s retreating back. 

Now that they are no longer fighting, Clarke can get a better look at the two other kids. Even in the soft glow from the backlights of her trailer, she can tell Bellamy must be a couple of years older than her. Like Octavia, he has dark hair. But his skin is a bit darker, too, and where Octavia's eyes are blue, his are deep brown. His cheeks and arms and everywhere she can see are splayed with freckles. 

Bellamy comes over to where she’s still on the ground and extends a hand. She refuses to take it, not wanting to seem weak. 

Instead, she juts out her chin and tells him, “I can do it on my own.”

He huffs as she manages to stand up without his help, though she feels sore all over. 

“You okay there, Princess?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, practically sneering, “Princess?” 

He shrugs. “You look like one. And the way you were talking to Dax? Definitely act like one, too.”

She opens her mouth to remind him that it’d also been her mouth that probably left a mark on the bully’s arm, but before she can, Octavia jumps in.

“Bellamy’s not good at making friends.” She shoots him a glare. “But he’s my older brother, so I have to let him hang out with me.”

Bellamy scoffs. “Please. Wasn’t it you who was always dying to hang out with me and Monroe and Roma and Mbege?”

Octavia waves a hand. “They had much better hair tips than you or mom ever do. They could feather their hair,” she explains to Clarke. 

Clarke understands. Her mom never takes the time to do something like that for her, but there are girls at school who have moms that do. 

“Not to mention your super gross obsession with Mbege,” Bellamy adds.

Octavia whacks him with her blue bunny. 

“Shit, come on, O, don’t take it out on poor Diana.”

She hits him again, though not with as much force. 

“You named your toy Diana?” Clarke asks. 

“Duh,” Octavia replies as if this should be obvious. “Diana's the goddess of the moon.” She holds the bunny up. “And the bunny's blue.”

She opens her mouth to question this when Bellamy cuts in, “Great logic there.”

Octavia starts up her hitting of Bellamy once more and he’s laughing so much Clarke wonders who enjoys it more. After a few minutes, Bellamy asks for a truce, and she watches in amusement as Octavia lowers the stuffed animal. Then the other girl turns back to her, tilting her head. 

“What’s so funny?” she asks. 

Clarke stutters out, “I just...I don’t have any siblings. You guys are sort of funny.”

Octavia cuts a look at Bellamy before she looks back at Clarke. “Got any friends?”

She can either lie and get caught in it or tell them the truth. “I did. Well...One,” she says. “But he moved away a couple of months ago.”

“That sucks,” Octavia replies, but doesn’t seem too down about it. “But I guess since you helped get Diana back, it’s only fair if we let you be our friend.”

“O—” Bellamy starts, but his sister cuts him off. 

“We’re pretty good friends, and we just moved here yesterday.”

She was able to guess that they were recent additions to Arkadia Springs, but she can’t help but be a bit curious. “From where?”

“Aren’t you a demanding Princess?” Bellamy seems sure of it, though it comes out like a question.

Octavia ignores him and says, “Indiana. Different trailer park. Except that one was better. But our mom’s boyfriend had to come back to the state to serve out his probation.”

“O!” Bellamy looks pissed now, which makes Clarke pissed in return. What does he think? That she’s going to judge them? Doesn’t he see where they all live? “We don’t even know her.”

Octavia stares back just as intensely, eventually, he breaks, but shakes his head and mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like ‘fucking hell dumbass’. 

“She’s trustworthy. And if she’s not, we’ll kick her ass.” 

Bellamy crosses his arms over his chest. “You mean, I’ll kick her ass.” 

Octavia argues that Dax was a team effort, and it goes on like that for a while. Clarke the silent observer to one of the most hilarious and yet terrifying dynamics she’s ever witnessed. They seem to be able to go on without end, so she finally speaks up. 

“Maybe I’ll kick Bellamy’s ass.”

Octavia actually laughs so hard she doubles over and Bellamy gives her this smirk that actually makes her want to hit him. Though, really, he did just save her butt from Dax. She doesn't think that would be a fair way to repay him. And she could use the friends. 

“You're kind of ace, Clarke. In a weird way,” Octavia says, in between her laughs. 

“Who knows,” Bellamy allows. “Maybe I can teach you how to fight.”

Clarke scoffs. “I know how to fight.”

Octavia raises a brow. “You mean the biting?”

She rolls her eyes and huffs. “I can do more than that.”

“You will,” Octavia assures her. “Once Bellamy helps. And me. We’ll show you Indiana Style.”

Clarke frowns. “What’s that?”

Bellamy’s grinning and starts to launch into a full description of it but before he can answer for real, Abby comes stumbling out of their trailer. Her steps are uneasy on the grass, though that could be due to the platform boots she's wearing. Clarke’s never wished her mom would disappear more than at that moment.

“Baby,” her mom drawls out, coming over to them. 

Bellamy and Octavia exchange a look. 

Clarke opens her mouth to tell them to go back to their trailer, but her mother sees them and practically squeals. “Are you the Blakes?”

She’s slurring even the few words she’s managed to get out, and Clarke’s horrified. What tentative friendship may have been formed will certainly be destroyed by her mom’s behavior. There’s a reason Dax called her junkie. Because even if she tries not to be her mom, there’s no escaping who everyone thinks she’ll become one day. 

“Yes, ma’am,” Bellamy says.

“Please, call me Abby, okay?” her mom asks and then goes on, “I think I ran into your dashing stepfather this morning...Terry, right?”

Clarke hates the tone she takes when talking about the other man. The kind that makes her think her mom might invite him over one night. Even worse, is the fact that he’s meant to belong to Bellamy and Octavia. Not her. 

Octavia plays with the ribbon tied around Diana. Clarke didn’t think she would be the quiet type, but she comes to learn that her mom simply has that effect on people. Even ones as strong-willed as her. 

“He’s not our stepdad,” Bellamy corrects. 

“Well, I’m only going by what he said." Her mom waves a hand. “He was also saying you just moved here? And you’ll be staying for a while? Which honestly, I would just love because my Clarke here is often a little stick in the mud." Her mom winks at her. "With any luck, you’ll be able to make her have some actual fun.” 

There’s a glint in her eye Clarke used to love so much. It’s the one her dad once told her made him fall in love with her. Now she knows it means she’ll probably be passed out in her car somewhere, not returning until the next day, with Clarke having to clean up from her party. 

“Mom, can we go back inside?” Clarke asks, unable to look at Bellamy and Octavia due to the waves of embarrassment that keep hitting her. 

“Actually…” she trails off as she runs a hand through her hair. It’s freshly washed and done up a little. She’s got sparkly eyeshadow on. Clarke should’ve noticed it sooner. 

Then Wells’ dad stumbles out of their trailer. “Abbs, you ready to go—” When he spots the three of them he stops short and the lazy smile on his face vanishes. “Hiya, Clarke.”

Clarke stays silent and looks up at her mom. Jaha lives a couple of trailers down with his girlfriend. She works the Graveyard Shift at the Jiffy Lube. 

“Say hello, baby,” her mom chastizes. 

“Hi,” Clarke says, looking away from her mom to Jaha. 

He offers a tight smile, but it makes her feel sick. She looks back to her mom, who smooths down Clarke's hair out of her face. She doesn’t notice the cuts and bruises from her fight with Dax. Or she doesn’t want to. 

Or she doesn’t care. 

“Thelonious, why don’t you go on ahead and I’ll catch up,” her mom says, facing away from Clarke for a brief moment. He immediately struts off into the shadows with the carelessness Clarke associates with whiskey. She hates that Bellamy and Octavia are still there, but her mom’s eyes go to them again. “If your mom says it’s okay, you and…” She waves to Octavia. “Can have a sleepover, okay? I’ll be back late, so you can lock the door, alright?”

Clarke swallows down the tears that bubble up, the ones she doesn’t understand or even know why they come. It feels as if there’s something heavy in her stomach, pressing down. 

Eventually, still without looking at either one of the Blake siblings, she says, “Okay. Bye.”

Her mom flashes her a brilliant smile and turns around to wave as she takes off after Jaha, disappearing behind another trailer. 

Clarke watches her go and stares at the empty space between the trailers before Octavia commands her attention once more. 

“My mom’s home tonight, so we might have to work for it. Still, I can probably swing it,” Octavia says. “But would it be okay if Bellamy does too?” Octavia looks almost ashamed before going on, “I have trouble sleeping without him.”

Clarke’s eyes go wide with shock.

“Oh, come on,” Bellamy says, misinterpreting the reason for it. “You never have a sleepover with a boy before? Well, whatever. If you don't want me, I won't be there, okay?”

Clarke shakes her head. Octavia looks at her brother accusingly and Bellamy opens his mouth to argue with her more, but this time, she finds her words first. 

“It’s not that. My friend who moved away was a boy, and we had sleepovers all the time.” She frowns. “But why would you want to? Sleepover at my place, I mean.”

Bellamy shrugs and says, “My mom’s boyfriend Terry’s a shit. And he snores so loud I can hear him even in mine and O’s room.”

At the same time, Octavia casually admits, “We already heard about your mom when we first got here. Like, the first thing we heard.”

The tears really threaten to pour out then, but Clarke forces them away from her eyes. “Oh.”

Bellamy glares at his sister and then explains, “We still wanna be your friend, is what O means.”

“You don’t have to.”

“We know,” Bellamy replies.

Clarke sucks on her teeth. “No. I don’t want you to. Not if you don’t really want to.

Octavia wrinkles her nose. “Are you trying to fight us on being your friend?”

She shrugs. “Maybe.”

The other girl lets out a laugh and then elbows her brother. “You two are gonna be hilarious to watch. Like a freakin' episode of Mork and Mindy.”

“As long as I’m Mindy,” Clarke replies.

“Whatever,” Bellamy says gruffly. “Mork is way funnier.”

“See,” Octavia looks between then and grins, “hilarious.”

_1988_

The memory still makes Clarke smile, even though Abby’s presence tends to warp it. She wipes up the last of the vomit and gives the floor one more sweep with a paper towel before accepting that it will never be fully clean. It’s doubtful that it ever even was. Sighing, she gets up from the floor and puts the cleaning supplies back underneath the rusted, leaking sink. Bellamy came over to fix it last week, but she knows it's only a matter of time before it breaks again. Then he'll fix it again. And on and on and on. 

Throughout the last nine years, her friendships with the Blakes stayed intact. Though really, given everything they went through, it shouldn't have. They stuck together though, vowing to always be each other's family. Even when Octavia pulled away when she and her both reached eighth grade, having skipped a year since their mom Aurora had homeschooled her back in Indiana for a year. Once Bellamy heard that his sister was starting to hang out with the junkies and burnouts, he got them both jobs at Jaha’s, where he’d been working almost since they moved to Arkadia Springs. It took some time, but Octavia came back to her and Bellamy. Clarke’s always grateful she didn't lose her to the same world that consumes Abby.

Jaha and Abby didn’t last. Though it didn’t surprise her in the least. Not even when Abby came home crying and asking Clarke if she was smart and beautiful. If she deserved to be loved at all. Clarke didn’t even get the chance to reply before she was out the door once more, off to score her drug of choice. Whatever it was at the time. She can’t remember. It seems to be heroin these days though.

With Abby securely on her side and a small trashcan beside her, Clarke finally lets herself lie down in her small bed in the room she claimed as hers the moment they attached the second trailer. 

She lies back and lets out a slow, even breath. Bellamy’s working and Octavia’s out on a date with some kid who goes by Atom. Everyone knows that’s not his real name, but they also can’t really remember what his old one is, either. Everyone knows not to fuck with Octavia though. Not just because they fear Bellamy, but Clarke, too. 

So she pulls out her duck-taped together cassette player and selects the most recent mix Bellamy made for her. When he started making them for her, the covers were very simple. Now though, he slides little polaroids in or makes doodles that always make her laugh. She's the artist, he always says, but she can never wait to see what he ends up drawing. The mixes became a thing when he realized her vast lack of knowledge when it comes to music. Now, he does it because he knows she loves it. Between shifts at the diner and her community college classes, she would never take the time to make her own tapes. He puts all kinds of genres on there for her, but she can tell which ones are his favorite. It's the edgier stuff. A little somber. A little rock. Some punk. She listens to it all. And then she listens again. 

She tries not to think about how much she’s come to cherish each one of the mixes he's made for her over the years. 

Headphones on and volume up as loud as it will go, she closes her eyes. Clarke hasn’t listened to this one yet, and it’s always the first listen that she thinks she screws up the most. Often, after talking to Bellamy, she has to go back and relisten over and over to pick up on the same stuff he does. But she thinks she’s getting better. 

The first song starts.

_I can’t seem to face up to the facts_ _  
_ _I’m tense and nervous and I can’t relax_  
_I can’t sleep ‘cause my bed’s on fire_ _  
_ Don’t touch me I’m a real live wire…

Clarke doesn’t know when she drifts to sleep with music Bellamy chose for her in her ears, but she sure as hell knows when she’s woken up to Abby screaming her name. She blinks away the leftover sleep and sits up in bed. Not fast enough.

Standing in her doorway, a bottle of vodka clutched in her hand, Abby shakes her head. “Took you fucking long enough.”

She takes off her headphones and tucks them carefully into the nightstand drawer. Already sensing what’s going to happen, she doesn’t want to risk them breaking. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

It’s the wrong question.

“What’s wrong?” Abby mimics. “Don’t play stupid with me, Clarke.”

Clarke starts to sit up and Abby takes a swig before pointing the bottle at her. “Don’t fucking move.”

She pauses, her eyes trained on the bottle. It’s been a while since things got this bad. She wonders what’s causing it. If it’s the heroin or the lack of money or that Abby just got fired from yet another job and thus lost a boyfriend too. She'd been sleeping with her boss.

“Tell me where you hid them,” she says.

Clarke doesn’t understand what she means for a moment. Eventually, it registers. The drugs. The ones Clarke flushed down the sink in a moment of anger after Abby got sick all over the kitchen and her. Fuck. She's going to kill her for real this time. 

She goes with the most logical excuse Abby might buy. “You took it all.”

It’s an unlucky night though. Abby doesn’t even consider it. “Hell no. I made sure I had enough to last me.”

At that, an inane laugh bubbles up in her chest. Last her what? Three days? Maybe five? It’s absurd. She keeps it at bay. But at this point, there’s really nothing she can do to avoid what’s coming. 

“I don’t have them,” she tries, because well, it is the truth. 

“Fuckin’ liar,” Abby slurs. 

It’s terrible, but Clarke is grateful she’s half-drunk already. It will make the whole night move along much faster. Hopefully, at least.

Abby takes a long swig from her bottle and then places it down on the floor. “Tell. Me. Where. They. Are.”

Clarke’s hands go into fists. Out of rage at Abby. Herself. Being trapped in this trailer because she couldn’t get enough money together to move out. The fact that she could’ve if Aurora hadn’t gotten so ill. But that’s cruel, to blame a sick woman for her own pain. It makes it worse that she knows Bellamy feels the same. Not because he told her, but rather, because he hadn’t. His silence told her far more than any words ever could. They don't really talk about what could've been. Instead, they try to focus on living in the moment, the one they have in their grasp. But sometimes she can't block out the desires for what she could have. 

“I told you—” she starts, but Abby doesn’t give her the chance to finish, as she knew she wouldn’t. 

Instead, she’s shouting fuck and shit and how dare you piece of shit take them away from me. And then she’s across the room and on top of Clarke. She holds her down, pinning Clarke’s arms beside her as she screams in her face. Her knees pressed against Clarke's abdomen. 

How long it goes on for she doesn’t know. She’s used to this part. Understands it more than the fake love her mom shows during the brief periods she’s sober. It makes sense to her, as impossible as that sounds. Her mom sits on her and screams until she's let out all the anger she carries around. The anger she seems to never truly be able to escape. No matter the drugs or the booze or the men. None of it's enough to help her. Especially not Clarke.

When her mom has tired herself out, she retreats. Clarke doesn't move. Doesn't let herself breathe. Not yet. 

Grabbing her bottle on her way out, Abby turns to Clarke and says, “Never fuck with my stuff again.”

Then she’s gone, and Clarke’s alone, and for a moment, she can pretend it never happened. 

It has happened though. Has again and again and again since she can remember. Abby’s spit on her face is one more reminder. Clarke wipes it off with her pillowcase and waits. Then she waits some more. She hears the door of the trailer slam open and shut. Knowing her, Abby will be gone all night. Hell, maybe she’ll get lucky, and it’ll be a couple of days. Regardless, it’s the absence of her mother in the trailer that finally allows her tears to fall. 

Without much fanfare or a shift in the air or dramatic music playing, she knows something. Knows it with absolute certainty. 

Clarke knows it as she bites down on her fist to hide the sound of her tears. Because she can’t bear to hear the sound. Hiding from it doesn’t work anymore. Playing along doesn’t. Doing everything and anything she can for Abby certainly doesn’t. There is only one thing left for her to do, and both Bellamy and Octavia are going to hate it.

She’s gotta get out of this place, and she knows just where she’s gonna go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading ❤︎
> 
> find me on tumblr (@animmortalist)


	2. Where is My Mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, here we are at the second chapter. this is also almost exactly like the one originally posted but I did make a few clarifying edits. the next one is brand new though, and I can't wait to share it with you! 
> 
> this one deals with Clarke's decision to leave and finally gets these kids on the road.

Bellamy rings the bell on the counter of _Jaha’s_ , leaning out of the stifling kitchen in the diner that fed him and O and Clarke for most of their more formative years. 

“Order up, O,” he calls. 

His sister either ignores him or doesn’t hear. She continues to flirt with Atom, even though she’s already been told off by Jaha for not giving her tables better service. 

“O!” he repeats. The last thing they need right now is for her to lose her job. Especially for Atom, of all people. 

Not fucking worth her time, if you ask him. Which, of course, she doesn’t. At least he has Clarke. More often than not, she is the one that makes Octavia see sense. She’s more willing to listen to Clarke’s jutted out chin and steely eyes than his own pleas. Most of it has to do with him being her brother, he’s sure, but he also wonders if Octavia and Clarke don’t have some kind of understanding. One that he can’t touch.

“Shit, sorry,” she says when she looks over at him, rushing to pick up the burger and cob salad.

She takes it over to the O’Donnells table, making them laugh at something she says. 

“You’re lucky they like you,” he tells her as she comes back over behind the counter.

“Everyone likes me,” she teases. “It’s you they’ve got a problem with.”

He rolls his eyes. It isn’t the truth, after all. Bellamy’s a good worker and does maintenance for most of their neighbors. Whoever needs a drain unclogged or shelf hung up. They know they can come to him. He gets the job done better and cheaper than any of the ‘professionals’ in town. 

The diner doesn’t really cater to outsiders and most people that come in either live in Arkadia Springs or lived there at one point or another. Wick still comes in on occasion, even. Though he vowed when he moved into the motel that he was leaving their shit behind forever.

Bellamy long since learned that no one really leaves the trailer park, though. Which only proves his belief that it isn’t worth it to try and get out. Not if you are just gonna land right back there when things inevitably go to hell. He tells himself this, even though he doesn’t want it to be true. He has to believe it. The alternative is dreaming of a life that he’s never going to have, and unlike O or Clarke, he doesn’t have the resolve to keep going in the face of that. 

They get swarmed for a while, and Bellamy tries not to want to punch Atom in the face every time he catches him looking at his sister. The other knows if he ever hurt her he’d have to deal with both him and Clarke, but that hasn’t stopped other kids from trying to mess with her. She’s optimistic and romantic and all the things that terrify him. He worries she doesn’t know how much the world can ruin you. And though he knows it isn’t realistic, he hopes she never does. 

Once they’re done with their shifts, Bellamy makes sure to clean up for the next cook and Octavia tosses her apron basketball-style into the laundry bin Jaha keeps in his office, which is usually empty. 

“She shoots, she scores,” she cheers herself. 

Bellamy shoves her lightly and says, “If you’re done congratulating yourself for a skill almost everyone else has, Clarke asked if we want to get drunk at the quarry with a couple of other people.”

“Of course, I do. Can I ask Atom if he wants to come?” she asks. 

He gives her a look and she huffs. 

She doesn’t seem to be too disappointed, but still adds, “Why do I even bother?”  
  


He’s smug with victory when he tells her, “In the vain hope that one day I might actually chill out. Or be drunk or high enough that I say yes.”

She snorts in response. “Please, even when you’re fucked up, you’re still controlling as anything.”

“It’s because I care.” His tone is still light and teasing, but there’s a seriousness to his words. He knows he’s over-protective, but he practically raised her. He thinks he has a right to watch out for her. Someone has to, or who knows what she could get up to. Not that he’d ever tell his mother that. It would break her heart. 

“Can we stop by the trailer before, at least?” O asks. “I gotta get out of this thing.” She gestures to the polyester uniform all the waitresses wear. 

He wants to argue but knows it’ll do little good. While she’s stuck with the work, her disdain for the outfit has never wained. “Fine, but really, it’s just Clarke and a couple of people from around. It’s not like they care.”

O points out that he doesn’t have to wear the uniform, so he doesn’t get to judge, and eventually, he relents and walks done the road, making the turn for Arkadia Springs. It’s close enough they don’t have to use his truck, which he appreciates since gas is worth fucking gold these days. Things are getting tougher and tougher for them, and with his mom so sick she can’t do many shifts at the gas station, he feels the weight of the world on his shoulders. Most days, he’s Atlas. But sometimes, when he’s listening to music, making mixes for Clarke, or just getting into whatever kind of shit they can find, he doesn’t feel it as much. 

When they enter their place, Aurora is sitting on the couch, watching an episode of _Cagney and Lacey_. It’s a good day, then. Her bad ones don’t let her get out of bed. Sometimes, it’s days or even weeks of that. He tells everyone she’s sick, but really, she doesn’t have anything physically wrong. But there’s no other way for him to understand what’s going on with her. She’s fine one day, on top of her game. Unbeatable. He can’t keep up with her happiness and energy. Then, maybe a week or more, she can’t do anything. Bellamy’s tried to look up what it could be at the library, but everything he reads terrifies him, so at some point, he stopped trying to find an answer. 

“Made it to work today,” she tells them, practically beaming. 

“That’s great, Mom,” he tells her. 

“Bet you killed it!” O exclaims. “We’re gonna go hang with Clarke if that’s okay.”

His mom nods, she’s always liked Clarke, even though their neighbors told them to stay far away from the Griffins when they first moved there. Terry hadn’t liked Bellamy and O playing with her, but he took off with a seventeen-year-old about six months in. 

Bellamy could tell it devastated Aurora. But eventually, she got another boyfriend and even admitted things were easier with Terry gone. That other boyfriend bailed, too, though. 

It’s been a revolving door of men since then. In and out of their lives so quickly Bellamy doesn’t even listen to their speeches about how they intend to be a real family anymore. Even O stopped buying into it about two years ago. It’s been a while since anyone’s lived with them though. 

He doesn’t dare tell anyone except Clarke, but he’s grateful for the break. She understands, going through the same thing with her own mom. He can’t blame Aurora though, not when he knows she’s just looking for the kind of love she had with his dad. Bellamy wasn’t even born when he died in a robbery gone wrong. 

He sits down beside her while O goes off to change. “You sure you’re okay? We might be out late?”

She gives him a wry grin. “Yes, I’ll be fine. You two have fun. But watch out for your sister. I don’t want her getting in trouble, and we both know she likes to pretend she’s an adult, but she’s still just seventeen.”

“Of course. She’ll be safe.” 

She adds, “You be safe, too, okay?”

“Mom—”

“I’m serious.” Giving him a stern look, she goes on, “I know how much I depend on you to help out, and that it isn’t always fair but...I don’t want anything to happen to you, okay?”

He relents. “Nothing’s gonna happen. It’s just a bunch of neighbor kids hanging out.”

“Mmmhmm.” She grins. “I remember what that used to entail. Just don’t get in trouble with the cops, okay? They’re cracking down on that kind of thing.”

“Like the cops in this town actually give a shit,” he replies.

“Bellamy,” she tsks. “I don’t know who taught you such language.”

“You,” he deadpans.

She laughs at that. Her first laugh in a long while, and it makes him so freakin’ happy. Makes him want to play some of her old records that he hasn’t listened to in years, dubbing them ‘disco crap’. 

O comes bounding out of their room in an oversized flannel that must be Atom’s and jeans. Boots that she got second-hand at the Salvation Army on Main Street. 

“We’ll be back later tonight,” O says as they go towards the door. 

Bellamy adds a ‘love you’ that his mom returns. 

They stop by Clarke’s trailer on the way out. They knock on the door for a moment and just as their about to call it quits and meet Clarke at the quarry, Abby answers. 

She looks more put together than usual, which might mean she’s got a date. Or maybe she’s trying a new-age kind of healthy-living thing. Her clothes look freshly washed and she gives them a warm smile. 

“Hey kids,” she greets. “Clarke told me to tell you she’s already there if you stopped by.”

“Thanks,” O says stiffly. He shoots her a look which she ignores. 

They only just heard what a rough night Clarke had a week ago, and it pisses them both off that she has to deal with it. It also took a whole bottle of whiskey between them before she admitted even the smallest details about it. Bellamy knows she doesn’t wanna seem weak, but he wishes she felt comfortable telling them what went on without the booze. 

Abby swallows. “I know I’ve been a mess recently. But I’m trying NA again. Been to three meetings, already. I’m sure Clarke’s told you she doesn’t think it’ll do much good, and maybe it won’t but...Look, I’m sorry if I fucked with you or her during these past few weeks. I don’t remember much, honestly.”

Octavia snorts but doesn’t fire back a retort, for which Bellamy’s grateful. It’s the best he can hope for, given the circumstances. They’ve been here before with Abby. It’s the hard part of all of this because if she could be straight-up evil, then he could hate her. Then Clarke could hate her. But she isn’t, and it makes everything more complicated. Underneath the rage and the drugs, there’s a real person there. A woman who wants to love, but doesn’t seem to know how to. 

“That’s good to hear,” he tells her. “But it’s not us you have to prove it or apologize to.”

Abby winces a little. It gives him some kind of sick satisfaction. But it reminds him that she can be affected by things, by her actions. They tell her they’ll see her around, and she nods and then shuts the door of the trailer. 

On the way to the quarry, he decides not to mention the interaction to Clarke. He tells O this, and she rolls her eyes. 

“Duh,” she says. “God, I don’t trust that bitch.”

“She’s sick, O,” he responds. 

“ _Our_ mom is sick. She keeps screwing with Clarke is more of my problem anyways. I mean, she’s practically had to raise herself and Abby since she was a kid. Not to mention the other stuff.”

The other stuff fills Bellamy with such rage, he does his best not to think about it. Clarke only tells them when it’s really bad, like the night the last week. He knows it happens more though. Abby’s never left a bruise on her daughter, but that doesn’t matter to him. The fact that anyone would hurt Clarke makes him want to destroy things, tear the world apart. He can’t let himself feel that kind of anger though. Especially not when they’re about to surround themselves with a bunch of drunk idiots. He might still get into the occasional fight, but he knows just how easy it is to slip into such a dark part of himself that even he’s scared of it. 

“Forget it,” O continues, and he feels her eyeing him carefully. He knows she’s thinking about his last fight with Dax, too. “Let’s just focus on having fun tonight. I brought some of our tapes, hope that’s okay.”

He clears the memories away and nods. “‘Course. We can’t rely on Sterling’s taste.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. Brought the good stuff, and some more popular ones too.” He gives her an unimpressed look and she adds, “It’s a party, Bell. Plus, if we sprinkle in some Jackson and U2, then they won’t be able to complain when we play New Order.”

He can’t really refute her logic, though he wants nothing more. “Fine,” he agrees. “But no fucking Journey.”

O feigns a shudder. “I would _never_.”

“Raised you well,” he says. 

She laughs and shoves his shoulder and then starts complaining about school. She’s barely passing, but she is passing, and as much as she wants to drop out, Aurora won’t allow it. Besides, she’s only got one year left. Bellamy got his GED, but his mom is resolute that since neither she nor him graduated, O’s gotta be the first. 

His sister’s perspective is that it won’t do her a bit of good. Unlike Clarke, who managed to get good grades and is able to afford the local community college. All because of a scholarship she got because well...She’s Clarke. He’s jealous, and she knows it. So she does her best to pass along as much knowledge she can, and any books she can steal from the library. 

It’s nowhere near the same, but it’s _something._

When they get the quarry, things have already devolved. Someone seems to have brought some grass, though who fucking knows where they got it. He bets it’s at least half oregano but O gets her hands on a joint anyways and they split it as they look for Clarke. They find her, and O bursts out laughing. 

She’s dancing on the rocks to a new band, one he’s only heard snippets of and hasn’t gotten his hands on cassette yet. As they watch her spin around, laughing and holding onto a bottle of the cheapest tequila you can get at the liquor store, Bellamy makes a mental note to add the song to her next mix. O’s eyes are on him and he looks away from Clarke.

“What?” he asks.

She shakes her head, smiling a bit. “Oh, nothing.”

He shrugs, dismissing it as a little sister thing. “Whatever.”

At that moment, Clarke spots them. He knows this because he hears her shout, “Blakes! Get your asses over here!” She waves her arms and kicks out her leg, nearly tripping off her rock. She corrects herself and laughs at something Wick says from where he’s lounging on the ground with a beer. 

Bellamy obliges, calling out, “No need to die for us.”

She snorts, grins, and then does another spin. 

O chuckles, but before he can ask her about why Clarke’s handing her the bottle and she takes a long pull of it. 

“Shit,” she says, wiping her mouth on the pack of her hand. “You really had to go for this stuff?”

Clarke waggles a finger at her. “Shumway was a dick tonight. I got what I could.”

Wick adds helpfully, “I got some of the higher quality over by the big Oak. This one,” he jerks his chin to Clarke, “just insists on being stubborn.”

“Clarke? Stubborn?” Bellamy smirks. “Couldn’t be.” He accepts the bottle from O regardless and swigs. He chokes and Clarke laughs.

“At least I can handle my booze,” she retorts.

“You mean paint thinner,” O corrects. 

Clarke shoots her glare. “Traitor.”

“I can handle it just fine,” he drawls out.

“Oh, do tell,” Clarke says. 

O interrupts before they can continue, “Where’s the boom box?” 

Wick inclines his head towards a large rock, safe from falling into the quarry below and O heads over with the backpack she brought. She puts in a cassette and the rest of the gangle of kids cheer when Sonic Youth’s ‘Pacific Coast Highway’ starts blasting from the speakers.

His sister jogs back over to them and she and Clarke spread out on the rocks, passing the bottle of tequila between them. He hangs out for a while. Until they start talking about Atom. He rolls his eyes and makes some joke that pisses O off. So he goes to sit beside Wick, accepting a beer from the other. He asks him how being the manager of the motel is going.

He shrugs and says, “Same creepy shit. But no murders yet, so we got that going for us.”

Bellamy nods and tells a story about a shit out-of-towner customer from the other day. Some kid gives them another joint, and they take turns smoking it. 

Sometimes, he and Clarke have this weird dynamic going on. Where it almost feels like they’re flirting. But then, as soon as it starts, it’s over, and it isn’t hard for him to dismiss. Besides, she’s one of his oldest friends. Not to mention, she’s way too good for him. He’s never been a great boyfriend, despite being a pretty good friend. Add all of that on to the fact that O would kill him if he fucked it up (which he would) and she’s nearly his sister’s age. 

It’s simpler to let go of those fleeting moments. Most of the time, when he can distract himself with another girl or a drink or whatever stupid crap they find themselves in, it’s all too easy. There are these few times though, like tonight, when he doesn’t know how to ignore it. 

Wick’s in the middle of saying something Bellamy doesn’t particularly care about. A hot chick that was clearly hooking who came with a guy that smelled like baloney. Then he hears, “Anyways, gonna miss this. But I guess it’s not the worst goodbye party we’ve ever had.”

Bellamy frowns and takes a drink from his beer. “What do you mean?”

Wick stares at him for a moment, eyes bloodshot. “Oh, fuck, thought you’d know. Since the three of you are practically attached like some three-headed dragon.” He laughs. “Shit, wouldn’t that be awesome?”

“Know what?” he asks, already tired of the delay from the other’s high. 

The other flashes his eyes to over to O and Clarke for a moment. He gulps a little. “Clarke’s leaving. Headed for New York like...Tomorrow? I think?”

He near spits out his beer. “The fuck are you talking about?”

Wick raises his hands in defense. “She told me after she got plastered, so I don’t maybe it’s not…”

But he knows, without even having to ask her or listen to more Wick’s ramblings. She’s leaving, he feels it. His heart plummets into his stomach, along with white-hot rage and betrayal that she told _Wick_ before him or O. He thought they meant more to each other than that. He thought the three of them would always be honest with one another, always have their backs. He thought they were destined to be in one another’s lives forever. 

He hates the sickening feeling that he’s got everything all wrong.

“Clarke! What the fuck are you doing?” he yells loud enough for her to hear. She turns, mid-laugh at something O said. When she sees his expression, it falls away. She swallows and looks to Wick, who mouths ‘sorry’ at her and winces. 

She presses her lips into a thin line and then tells O something. His sister spits a curse at her and storms into a thin line of trees. Clarke gives him an apologetic look before getting up, a bit unsteady. She goes chasing after his sister. He doesn’t plan to let her off though, so he stands and follows. 

When he reaches them, O is mid-rant. “I cannot fucking believe this shit!” she yells. Clarke opens her mouth, but she doesn’t give her room to speak. “No, you just listen for a second. Because I thought we meant more to you than to find out right before you left that you’re _bailing on us_. How can you possibly excuse that?” O shakes her head. “I thought we were...I don’t know...Important. But I guess I was wrong.” 

“O—” he starts.

“What?” she demands. “Can you tell me you don’t feel the same?”

He looks over at Clarke, giving her an unforgiving stare. “Of course, I do. But if she thinks she can explain herself then…”

O turns back to Clarke. “Can you?”

“I only decided a couple of days ago.”

Bellamy scoffs. 

“It’s true,” she protests. 

“Like we haven’t seen you in the last few days.” Bellamy does his best to keep his anger in check since he might have to control O’s, too, but it’s harder than he thought. 

Clarke sighs. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Bullshit,” O says. 

Clarke shoots both of them a guilty look, working her jaw as she came up with a reply. “I know that isn’t any kind of excuse, and I’m not trying to make one.”

“Good,” he almost spits out. 

“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” she goes on. “And I was trying to find the right time. The right words. But I couldn’t, so...I just didn’t say anything. Which, I get it, that’s worse.”

O nods. “Damn right.”

“But I can’t be here anymore,” she went on. “And you know why. You know how things are between me and Abby. As long as I’m here, I’ll never truly be able to live the kind of life I want.”

O won’t let it go, and if he could find the words, he wouldn’t either. “What about us? You were just gonna leave us and what? We never see you again? What the fuck Clarke?”

He’s grateful for his sister’s ability to question her, to keep going even in the face of the fact that he doubted Clarke would ever change her mind. O probably knows that, too. Still, he hates that it feels good to grill her, but it does. Maybe if she’d just told them she was leaving, he wouldn’t feel this way. But the thought of losing her forever makes him filled with a kind of despair he thought he’d become immune to. 

The wound she would leave isn’t the kind he believes would heal. For that, he’s angry and betrayed. He wants answers, but can already tell whatever she says, it won’t be enough. It won’t stop her from leaving. She’s going to be gone from his life. Just like that. And there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it. 

“I wanted to tell you,” Clarke pleads. 

O shoots him a look and he can’t bear to meet her eyes, so he ends up matching stares with Clarke. Which is the last thing he wants. He clenches his jaw and she practically crumbles. It makes him feel like shit, but he can’t stop the turmoil he’s going through with the sudden news. 

“You’re really going?” he asks. 

She hesitates but then nods. “Yes.”

He swallows, and tells her, “You’ll call, right? When you get there?”

O starts to speak but he shoots her a glare and she shuts her mouth, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Clarke looks down at her hands and then back up at him, glancing between him and O for a moment before answering. 

“Yes, of course.”

He nods. “Then I think you should go.”

She falters for a moment, clearly surprised, and he hates himself for pushing her away at that moment. In what may be the last time he ever sees her. But he has to do it: for her, for himself, for not ending this screaming at her, pleading with her to stay. 

Even though she’s still in front of him, she already feels like she’s gone. 

“Take care of yourself,” O says.

Clarke just nods. 

They leave without another word, without so much as a hug. Bellamy hates himself for it, but he thinks if he doesn’t bail right then, he’ll start yelling at her. He doesn’t know how he could ever recover from that. He sees the way she’s visibly affected by his coldness, by O’s rage. He can’t bring himself to comfort her though. Not this time. 

It’s the worst feeling he’s ever had. 

* * *

Clarke blinks away tears as she packs her duffle bag. It’s ancient, half ripped. She’s never done much traveling, and it didn’t make sense for her to waste money on something she didn’t need. Now, she’s regretting not using some of her savings from the diner to buy one. 

No time to consider that though, not when she’s gotta catch the next bus to Pittsburgh. From there, she’ll get another one to Philadelphia. Then another to New York. It’s not the most ideal way to travel, but it beats hitch-hiking. She’s got her dad’s old swiss army knife and picked up a bottle of pepper spray. It’s the best she can do. 

At some point, she stops packing her things carefully and instead starts dumping crap into her old backpack and the second duffle she stole from her mom. Abby’s got an actual suitcase, too, but she’s too chickenshit to steal that. Her mom’s gone to an NA meeting with their beat-up Toyota. It’s just as well since she’d be tempted to take the car if it was here. 

She says to herself, “They don’t get it. They don’t know what it’s like when it gets bad. They have Aurora.” 

Maybe they understood what it meant to be poor and left alone to raise themselves, but they didn’t have to go through what she does. They didn’t have to soothe themselves at night when they didn’t know if she would ever come back. Bellamy and Octavia are her family, yes, of course, but they also hadn’t lived her life. 

When her words don’t take, she says it to her reflection, too. 

“You can do this,” she says, looking at her red cheeks and puffy eyes. “You can make it on your own. You’re gonna be just fine.”

She wishes she could believe it. 

Clarke knew they wouldn’t like it, that they would fight her on it. But she honestly hadn’t thought of just how bad it could go. Of course, their reactions make sense now that she’s thinking straight and sobered up. They also hurt though, and make her think they didn’t understand her or why she needs to do this. That maybe they don’t want to. 

It isn’t a comforting thought, fills with her doubt, and makes her question if she’s really doing the right thing. She looks away from the mirror and goes back to packing. She is, she tells herself. Over and over. She’ll repeat it until she can believe it again. No matter how many times it takes.

She heaves her duffle bags onto her shoulders, grimacing at the weight of them. There’s so much she can’t take. But she’s got her favorite clothes and her dad’s watch and all of Bellamy’s mixes, along with as many other tapes as she could fit. It’s not much, really, but what she leaves behind she knows she won’t miss much either. 

Her boots walk across the shag carpet for the last time. Before she opens the door to the trailer, she looks around, feeling strangely sentimental. It’s an uncomfortable feeling. Something that seizes her gut and makes her rethink leaving. After all, who will take care of this place once she’s gone? Who will care for Abby? 

But then again, isn’t that why she’s going?

Clarke hesitates for one more minute, but then she checks her watch. She can’t wait much longer, or she’ll miss her window to leave. So, she unhitches the door and bounds down the three wooden steps, skipping the second, since it’s cheap wood and nearly always caves under her. 

Then she looks up and nearly gasps at what, or rather, who, she sees.

“What?” Octavia demands. “You didn’t think we were going to leave without you, did you?”

Spread out around her and Bellamy are a collection of shitty suitcases and a large duffle that’s in worst shape than her own. They’re mismatched and duct-taped together in places. Clearly, they haven’t been used in years.

“Now, come on,” the other girl goes on. “We gotta get a move on if we’re gonna beat out Abby.”

Clarke’s at a loss for words, for once. She opens her mouth and closes it. She huffs out a laugh. This can’t possibly be true, they can’t be serious. For a second, she lets herself imagine a world in which it is, and shit, if it isn’t the best goddamn fantasy she’s ever had. 

“I don’t understand...I mean,” she swallows. “What about work? What about Aurora? You can’t just come with me...It’s...You can’t.” 

She knows she isn’t making much sense, but she can barely process what they’re saying without any words. Her eyes lock with Bellamy’s and he rolls his. 

“Like O needed a reason to quit?” He smirks a little and Clarke goes to argue, but he cuts her off. “Besides, that shithole paid crap anyway, and Jaha is a total prick.” She wants to interrupt, but she can tell it will do no good. Bellamy sighs and says, “Once our mom heard you were leaving...She just knew. I think.”

Finally, more coherent words come to her. “Knew what?”

“That we were going too,” Octavia says. “I saw it on her face...She loves you, you know that. She wouldn’t want you going all the way there and be alone. Hell, it was practically her idea.”

Clarke feels her throat tighten up at the thought. Maybe she’d let herself hope that Aurora felt affection for her, in the way that some part of her wondered if she’d ever get enough of, but she never let herself believe it. 

“You can’t just leave her,” Clarke protests. “You need her, and she needs you and...You’re family.” Her excuses seem more pitiful as the moment goes on, but she can’t let herself fully embrace what they’re offering. 

Octavia shakes her head. Like she doesn’t understand a plan they had already made, far in advance. Like this whole thing isn’t some spontaneous blip in reason. “We’re gonna send money back, once we get jobs, and she’s been better recently, working more than she has in months.”

“We promised to call,” Bellamy tells her. “She wants us to go, Clarke. She’s always wanted more for us than Arkadia Springs. I think she knows that we can’t have that here, that as long as we’re stuck in this place we’ll never really escape it. I don’t want to leave her, I thought I never would...But this might be our only chance, and there’s no way I can let you go alone.” 

He smiles sadly, and she knows how difficult this is for him, to leave Aurora, to maybe leave her forever. In one quick movement, Clarke drops her bags, goes over to him, loops her arms around his neck, and pulls him in for a tight hug. She buries her head into the crook of his neck.

“Thank you,” she whispers, so only he will hear. She feels him nod, and they pull away when Octavia clears her throat.

“Like I said, time’s a-tickin’.”

Clarke salutes her. “Let’s get the fuck out of here, then.”

They gather up their bags and trek towards the entrance.

“And Clarke,” Bellamy adds, “you’re our family, too.”

He ducks his head after that, so she can’t see his expression. But she’s sure she’s blushing. She’s never been more grateful than when Octavia brings the attention back to her. 

The brunette turns and flips off the trailer park. Bellamy snorts and gives Clarke a look that has her grinning so wide it almost hurts. 

Then Octavia turns back them and slings an arm around Clarke’s shoulders. “New York isn’t gonna know what hit it!”

Clarke lets herself truly laugh this time, feeling it bubble up in her throat. She hasn’t felt this light in weeks, maybe months. Maybe even years. 

They walk out to the small parking lot, then dump their bags unceremoniously into the back of the truck. While Bellamy fits the beaten up cover over the back, Octavia gets in back while Clarke takes the passenger seat. It’s their usual set-up. If things were different, it’d be like any other drive they take. Except for this time, she feels the potential of the adventure, of a new life, stretching out before them. 

Clarke is already digging around in her backpack for one of her tapes. She chooses a mix Bellamy made her a few weeks ago and fits it into the stereo. Bellamy climbs into the truck and starts it up. When the music starts to play, Octavia begins to sing along. 

_With your feet on the air and your head on the ground_ _  
_ _Try this trick and spin it, yeah_ _  
_ _Your head will collapse_ _  
_ _But there's nothing in it_ _  
_ _And you'll ask yourself_ _  
_ _Where is my mind?_ _  
_ _Where is my mind?_ _  
_ _Where is my mind?_

Bellamy complains that her singing leaves much to be desired as they start to pull out. She quips back that he isn’t any better, so he doesn’t get to complain. Clarke drums her fingers along the dash. They’re almost there, and her heart pounds in her chest with the thrill.

Almost free. Almost out. Almost, almost, almost.

It isn’t so easy, though. Just as they’re about to pull out of the parking lot, Abby’s car comes zooming in and slides up next to Clarke’s side of the truck. She goes numb and her eyes widen as Abby gets out of her car and motions for Clarke to do the same. 

“Don’t get out,” Bellamy says, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to meet Octavia’s. 

She feels rather than sees the rage boil up from the backseat. 

“Clarke!” Abby calls. 

She wants to ignore it. More than anything. She wishes she could tell Bellamy to pull out and drive off and never look back. She feels her escape threatening to slip through her fingers. Still, she can’t do it. If this is the last time they ever speak, then she needs it to be more than her mom telling her there’s mac n cheese if she gets hungry while she’s at her NA meeting. 

Clarke opens her door, much to the tenseness radiating off of Bellamy and the protest of “Clarke!” from behind her. 

Of course, as soon as she gets out of the car, Bellamy and Octavia follow. 

“Guys,” she warns them, but Abby interrupts.

“You’re really leaving, aren’t you?” There’s a pain in her voice, devastation, even. The kind of emotion Clarke hasn’t heard in maybe years. It stuns her for a second. 

“Yes, she is,” Octavia answers for her. 

Bellamy says nothing, but leans against the truck and places a hand on Octavia’s arm when she goes to move towards Abby. Clarke’s grateful for it. She needs to handle this on her own. She’s tired of not facing things, of ignoring how broken she and Abby are because it’s too painful to confront. This might be the last chance they get to have an honest conversation. Clarke won’t let that go to waste. 

“I’m an adult. You can’t stop me,” she says. Abby opens her mouth, but she doesn’t give her room to speak. “And you know why I’m leaving, so don’t give me any of the confused bullshit, okay?” 

“Like fucking hell,” Abby says. “You’re my kid. You think I’m just gonna let you take off for who knows where? And what? Never see you again.” She scoffs. “No fucking way.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” comes from Bellamy. 

Clarke turns and tells him, “I’ve got this, okay?”

He doesn’t look all that happy about it, but he nods, and she turns back to Abby. 

“You’ve had it hard, I get that but…” She swallows and goes on, “It’s not enough to excuse any of it.”

“You know I don’t mean any of that!” Abby exclaims. “Besides, I’ve...I’m going to meetings, I’ve got a job lined up. I’m...We can be okay again.” She doesn’t know who Abby’s trying to convince more: Clarke, or herself.

Surprisingly, tears prick her eyes, and she forces them away by looking off into the distance at the setting sun. “It’s never been okay.” She looks back at Abby. “You must know that.”

“I’m getting better,” Abby insists, her voice no longer laced with anger but desperation. “I know I’ve…” She looks at Bellamy and Octavia for a moment before locking her gaze on Clarke once more. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I...It’s like it isn’t even me. When it happens. But I’m _trying_.”

Clarke nods her head, the tears becoming harder for her to force down. “I know...But we both also know that one day, you won’t be better anymore. And even if you are...It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change the fact that if I don’t leave now, I probably never will.” She lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

Abby is on the verge of tears when she replies, “Of course, I understand, Clarke. You think...You think I didn’t ever want to get out?”

Part of her knows she’s being blamed for that, but somehow, she knows Abby isn’t thinking about hurting her with it. For the first time in maybe years, she’s trying to understand her daughter.

Clarke never imagined this being their goodbye, but she can’t help but feel an overwhelming affection for her, despite everything the two of them have been through. 

“Then you need to let me go,” she says. “If you love me, even a little bit, you’ll let me go.”

“Of course, I love you,” is Abby’s immediate reply. “But how am I supposed to just...I can’t lose you after everything. What if you get hurt? I know I haven’t protected you but...We’re a family.”

Clarke looks back at Bellamy and Octavia before turning her head to stare down Abby. “They’re my family too. And we’ll be okay.” She bits down hard on her lip and looks down at her boots, not anticipating the other to say anything more. 

She does though, gulping for air almost as she says, “I really do love you, Clarke. I know I haven’t always shown you I do and I know I fucked up more than I ever helped, but…” The woman laughs, but it’s somber and without any sort of humor. “You were the best thing I ever did.”

It hurts more than she could’ve ever thought, saying goodbye to this woman. This woman who broke off pieces of her. Made her a jagged and glued together thing. This woman. She doesn’t know what to think of Abby anymore. But she knows it’s time to go, and there’s no delaying it anymore. 

“You have to let me go,” she repeats. Abby doesn’t answer, but she nods, and Clarke exhales in relief. “Goodbye, Mom,” she tells her.

Abby reaches out a hand, and Clarke takes it, squeezing tightly. She’s glad for the brief contact, but she knows it’s more natural than a hug would’ve been. Maybe she’s letting her go, letting her finally make something good from life, but Clarke knows that doesn’t erase the years of hurt. 

Octavia gives Abby a cold glare before she clambers back into the truck. Clarke summons some kind of watery smile for Abby and then does the same. Bellamy gives a curt nod. 

Before they pull out though, Abby speaks one more time, coming up to Clarke’s rolled down window. “You take care of each other.” It isn’t to Clarke though, it’s to Bellamy. 

“Yes ma’am,” he replies. 

Abby’s nearly fully crying now, and Clarke feels a tear well up in her eye and brushes a hand across her cheek. 

Bellamy starts the engine up again and changes the song. As they drive out of the lot, the chorus plays on.

_Gigantic, gigantic, gigantic_ _  
_ _A big, big love_  
_Gigantic, gigantic, gigantic_ _  
_ A big, big love

Clarke looks in the mirror on her right. Behind her, she sees Abby. Her arms are over her head, waving, and even though she can’t see it, she knows she’s crying. 

“You okay?” Bellamy asks after a few minutes.

She nods and looks back at Octavia. The brunette’s eyes are full of concern. 

“Yeah,” she settles on. “I’m okay.” Looking at her window, she watches as the town speeds by. This is the last time she’ll ever see it, she’s sure. She glances behind her at Octavia and then looks over at Bellamy, and slowly, she grins. “New York isn’t gonna know what hit it, after all.”

“Hell yeah!” Octavia exclaims from the back and breaks out along with the chorus of the song. 

Bellamy shakes his head, but he’s smiling more than she thinks she’s ever seen. She feels energy coursing through her and has never felt this kind of high. Not even after a bottle of whiskey or a whole bowl to herself. The world has never appeared so bright to her, so golden. So full of life and opportunity. Of _freedom_. 

As they get on the highway, for the first time in her life, Clarke thinks to herself, _We can do anything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading ❤︎
> 
> the next chapter has them finally arriving in nyc and the story truly begins there, so sorry if the pacing's been a bit slow, but things will definitely pick up. 
> 
> find me on tumblr (@animmortalist)


	3. Wasteland

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all are well and doing the best you can during these intense times!
> 
> in this chapter, we finally arrive in nyc and...it's not exactly how Bellamy, Clarke, and Octavia pictured. But, they might just like it even more that way. 
> 
> we meet the rest of the 'main cast' here and it was just a fun chapter to write because of establishing all the different dynamics. hope you enjoy!
> 
> *chapter title is from Baba O'Riley by The Who*

New York City smells like piss and stale beer, and Clarke absolutely falls in love with it at first sight. 

When they roll out of the tunnel, music blasting, windows down against the heat, Octavia makes a triumphant yell that perfectly encompassed how Clarke feels. 

“Easy, O,” Bellamy grumbles. “You don’t wanna take out my hearing before we’re even fully there.”

He’s grinning despite it all and he meets Clarke’s eyes for a moment before, at last, he breaks, letting out his own shout of glee. It fills her with warmth and happiness. She loves that she’s here, yes. But she loves it so much more that Bellamy is with her, too. And Octavia of course. 

Octavia leans out her window and stares up and around the city as it eclipses them, coming up faster and bigger than she thought possible. In her entire life, she never saw something as impressive as the city. They’d come a long way from Arkadia Springs. For a moment, panic seizes her. What was she thinking? How could she think that she could make it here? It’s so much more than she ever imagined. She’s never been more grateful to have Bellamy and Octavia with her. Now that she’s here, she knows she never would’ve made it without them. 

“Thank you, guys,” Clarke says, looking in the rearview mirror for a moment to meet Octavia’s eye. She turns to Bellamy, whose eyes stay on the road, but his lips quirk up. “Really.” Her throat gets tight and she pushes through it, needing to get this out. She drums her fingers on the side of the truck. The breeze lifts up her hair and she attempts to smooth it down before she’s able to continue. 

“I don’t know what I would do if I had to be here without you,” she confesses, hating the feeling that she might seem weak or needy, but knowing that she needs the two of them to know how important they are to her. 

Octavia jumps in before Bellamy can, butting her head in between them from the back of the truck. “Are you kidding? We needed to get out of there. I mean, if nothing else than I think I was gonna either marry Atom or burn down _Jaha’s_ just so I didn’t have to keep wearing that uniform.”

Clarke grins and shakes her head, and turns up the radio a bit. Bellamy’s mixes have been the soundtrack of their road trip. The only embarrassing part is that he now knows how she’s kept each one, and planned to take them all with her when she left. 

At the mention of Atom, Bellamy rolls his eyes. “You weren’t going to marry that douche, O.”

“How do you know?” she fires back.

“Because,” he adjusts his hands on the wheel as they make a turn. “I never would’ve allowed it. The minute he asked for my permission, I’d shut that shit right down.”

“Well, he didn’t ask for your permission, so…” Octavia trails off.

Bellamy’s whole body jerks, and with it, the truck. If it wasn’t for Clarke grabbing at the wheel and setting things straight, Bellamy probably would’ve crashed. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she mutters, “ _Blakes_.” 

“ _What_?” he practically yells in Clarke’s ear. 

“You know what?” Octavia waves a hand, suddenly dismissive and cagey in a way that makes Clarke want to groan. “It’s not important.”

“Bellamy, maybe just take a deep breath,” Clarke proposes. “And you know, make sure we don’t all die before we even get out of the car.”

He doesn’t look too enthused by the idea, but he listens, for which she’s grateful. Taking his time, he steers them down a road and pulls over on a street corner. Clarke checks the sign to make sure they can park there. For a moment, the car is silent. And then Bellamy gets into it. 

“Did it not occur to you to tell me some idiot tried to steal you away in the night?” Bellamy demands. 

“Well, that’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?” Octavia asks. 

“Not in the least!” he protests. 

Clarke considers getting involved, but knowing them, it might just be better to ride this out. Better for her, mostly. But for them, too. If they don’t air their crap right now, who knows when it could explode. 

“He wasn’t going to steal me away, we probably would’ve just moved into our own trailer.”

Clarke bites down on her lip to keep from saying what she’s thinking. In the end, she doesn’t have to worry too much. Bellamy says it for her. 

“That’s even worse!” He buries his head in his hands. “Please don’t tell me you said you’d think about it.”

“Of course not,” Octavia replies.

Bellamy breathes out a relieved sigh and Clarke pats him on the shoulder.

“I said yes,” she adds, which, really, it’s a miracle Bellamy doesn’t have a heart attack right then. 

“Octavia!” Clarke exclaims as Bellamy tries (and fails) to get out a single word. “You could’ve killed him telling him like that, god, you know the amount of stress that’s embedded into his veins. Honestly, he’s like fifty percent stress fifty percent cheap beer.”

“Thanks, Clarke,” Bellamy deadpans. She gives him an unimpressed look and he goes back to glaring at his sister. 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? But slowly dropping the boom on him would’ve been better?” Octavia gestures to Bellamy. “No offense, Clarke, but he was gonna go _Carrie_ no matter how I told him.” 

She looks at Bellamy, who is losing it more than Clarke’s ever seen before. Out of a need to be useful, she rubs circles on his arm. She thinks it helps, but can’t be sure anything could be of help at the moment. 

Bellamy takes a deep breath and lets it out. “I am not going all Carrie at the prom, okay?”

“You sure?” Octavia asks, looking unsure. She shoots Clarke a worried glance who just tsks her tongue against her teeth and shakes her head. 

“Yes, I am sure,” he snaps.

Octavia’s eyebrows go up and Clarke halts her hand on his arm. 

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Octavia goes on. “I clearly won’t actually be marrying him.”

Clarke jumps on this as good news, if only because it seems to be the only lifeline Bellamy’s sanity might have given what Octavia’s just told them. 

“That’s good, right?” She turns to Bellamy. “I mean, not great that she was engaged to a kid who we don’t even know the real name of, but still. No teen marriage. So...Good?”

“Good,” Bellamy repeats, and it’s then that Clarke knows they’re really in trouble. “Good? I….There is no world in which you,” he points to Octavia, “getting engaged at _seventeen_ is good news!”

“Bell, relax, okay?” Octavia bursts out. “I’m not going through with it. Obviously. I mean, I’m never gonna see him again.”

“That’s the thing, O,” Bellamy replies. “What if Clarke hadn’t decided to leave? What if Mom didn’t support us going with her? What would you have done then? Actually marry him?”

“I…” Octavia swallows. “I don’t know.” 

“Exactly!” Bellamy exclaims, and Clarke loves Bellamy, she does, but she wonders if he doesn’t sound a bit too triumphant when he says it. She knows this for a fact with what happens next. “You don’t think, O. You don’t consider the consequences, and one day, it’s gonna bite you in the ass, and me and Clarke aren’t gonna be able to save you.”

“You can be a real dick, you know that Bell?” Octavia says, her face red with rage. “You know why I had to come here and not marry Atom? Because I knew you’d be a dick and fuck it all up.” 

Tears well in Octavia’s eyes and Clarke feels Bellamy tense up. He knows he’s crossed a line, but it’s too late. She’s lashed out and hurt him too, and as much as Clarke wants to glue it all together, she can’t. The Blakes love fiercely, which is something she loves about them, but it also means they fight just as intensely. Clarke knows better than to intervene with something where both of them are hurting. Still, she’s trying to come up with something that starts to mend things without taking sides. 

But before Clarke can even think about what she’s doing, Octavia is out of the car and running down the street. 

“Octavia!” she yells. 

It’s too late. 

Bellamy’s out of the truck in seconds. He almost takes off without locking it before Clarke shouts for him to do it as she’s jumping out of her side. They’re running off in the direction Octavia went. Eventually, the road splits. Clarke takes one way, Bellamy the other. Both of them hoping one of theirs is the right way. 

She nearly gets hit by a cab trying to cross the street almost immediately. All she can think about is finding Octavia and getting her to come back. The driver screams so many obscenities at her, she’s not even sure she recognizes most of the words. 

Shaking a little, she walks down block after block. There’s no sign of Octavia. 

“Hi, sweet baby!” Some guys yell as they walk by her. 

She flips them off and tells them to kiss her ass. Except it only entices them even more. Clarke stiffens. She’s dealt with her mom’s creepy boyfriends and more than one lurking teacher, so she knows how it can be. But she’s never felt the cold shock of fear down her spine as she does when that group of guys narrows in on her. 

“Aw, look, sweet baby’s got a mouth on her,” one of them says, apparently delighted by her response.

She walks down the street with purpose, trying not to meet the eyes of what she thinks are drug deals going down to her left and someone getting a blow job to her right. In her desperation to find Octavia, she didn’t think about how dark it was getting. The guys get closer as she makes her way down the street, shouting shit at her that makes her want to turn around and fight them. But this isn’t Arkadia Springs, and she’s starting to understand that Dax isn’t the worst person kind of person out there. 

“Hey! Fuck off America’s Association for Micropenises!” someone shouts from a stoop.

The guys still glare down at Clarke, but someone mutters something about freaks fucking up the city, and they take off. 

She turns to face the direction of the voice. On a stoop for an old warehouse (which, from the outside, looks a bit like a hellhouse) are two people, maybe a little older than her. Music blares from behind the slightly ajar door of the warehouse, a song Clarke swears she recognizes but can’t place.

_And it goes so slowly on  
_ _Everything I've ever wanted  
_ _Tell me what's wrong  
_ _Look me in the eye  
_ _And tell me that I'm satisfied  
_ _Were you satisfied?  
_ _Look me in the eye  
_ _Then, tell me that I'm satisfied  
_ _And now are you satisfied?_

The person on the right is in a red leather jacket and has long brown hair that’s swept in a messy ponytail. She’s holding a cigarette in one hand and a bottle wrapped in a paper bag in the other. There’s a studded out brace on one of her legs. Beside her is a black guy with a beard. He’s got blue eyeshadow on and an earring in his left ear. They’re immediately cooler than anyone else Clarke’s ever seen in Arkadia Springs. 

“Thanks,” she says, lamely. She tries to recover and nods her head. “Appreciate it.”

They both look at one another and the guy starts shaking with silent laughter. 

“How new are you?” the girl asks, amazed. “I mean, seriously, are you from Iowa?”

“What?” Clarke asks. “No, Pennslyvania.”

The guy grins. “That might be even worse.” He shakes his head. “When you’d get in?” 

Clarke presses her lips together. “Earlier today.”

This makes the two of them burst out laughing, which she doesn’t take too well. She likes to think that she would’ve handled things better under different circumstances. But in that moment, she’s tired and worried sick about both Blake siblings and more than a little pissed. 

“Hey, asshole one and two.” She takes turns staring both of them down. “Look, you might’ve helped me out with the goon squad there, but my one friend is missing and my other one is probably losing his shit. So, I really don’t have the fucking time to deal with some bougie ass city kids thinking they’re better than me, got it?” 

She crosses her arms over her chest and takes a long, slow breath. She might’ve just completely lost it on two random people, but can’t help but feel a bit better for it. 

“Holy shit,” the guy breathes out. 

The girl grins. “See? I knew that helping her out was the right call.”

The guy rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

With some effort, the girl stands up, bracing her hands on her knees. She comes over to Clarke and claps her on the shoulder. Before she can get out even more insults, the girl says, “Congratulations, you’re a New Yorker.”

“What?” Clarke’s voice is flat, so it comes out as more of a statement than a question. 

“A rite of passage,” the guy adds. “Honestly, I’m impressed by how quickly you broke.”

Clarke frowns. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” the girl replies. Then she nods her head towards the guy beside her. “This here is Miller, and he didn’t want me to shout at those assholes for you.”

Miller glares at the girl. “And this here is Raven, and you should never trust her backstabbing ass.”

She realizes they’re waiting for her to give her own name. 

“Dude, relax,” Miller says. “If we wanted to go all Son of Sam on you, we already would’ve.”

Raven hits him with the back of her hand. “Miller, don’t freak her out. She’s like a scared rabbit right now.”

“Hello,” Clarke waves a hand in front of them. “Supposed scared rabbit speaking. Just saying, I don’t trust you but…” she trails off. “Fuck me. I’m Clarke, and I do need your help.”

Raven’s eyebrows go up and Miller’s lips quirk up a little. 

“Do tell,” Miller says.

“My friend Octavia got in a fight with her brother and took off.”

At this, Raven and Miller’s dispositions shift. This makes Clarke even more worried. If they’re concerned, then that means Octavia might really be in trouble. Of course, she is, though. Clarke already knew this, she just didn’t want to accept it. 

“You know what, we’ll help you find her, alright?” Miller says.

Clake feels suddenly shaky on her feet and a bit dizzy but manages a nod. 

“Don’t worry,” Raven assures her, all steely resolve that makes Clarke feel better even if she doesn’t want to. “She can’t have gotten very far.”

Clarke spends thirty minutes wandering with Miller and Raven before she finally gives in and admits defeat. 

“I should try to find Bellamy,” she explains, “Octavia’s brother.” 

Miller and Raven exchange a look and then tell her they’re coming with. Apparently, they’re invested now. Clarke isn’t sure she can trust them. She isn’t the best at trusting anyone who isn’t Bellamy or Octavia, but she needs them. If nothing else than they know their way around.

She goes back to where she and Bellamy originally split off. He’s there when she gets arrives, head in his hands, leaning against a building and smoking. Beside him are a pretty blonde girl and an Asian guy. 

“Clarke,” he breathes out when he sees her, stubbing his cigarette out on the sidewalk. “You okay?”

She decides to save the story about the creepy guys for another time. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She nods to her new companions. “This is Miller and Raven. They’re helping look for Octavia.”

He shakes his head and curses, running his hand across his forehead. 

“Bellamy, just breathe, okay, just breathe,” she says, gripping onto his arms, her hands trying to soothe him in any kind of way possible. 

“Fuck, Clarke, what are we gonna do?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. He looks around, desperate. As if his sister will just appear out of nowhere. 

“Look, we’ll help you and your boyfriend find his sister, okay?” Raven says. “But you gotta get him to not lose his shit in the middle of the neighborhood.” 

“We’ve got a rep,” Miller adds. As if this is helpful information. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she says at the same time Bellamy replies, “Not, um, not her boyfriend.”

The blonde girl gives an amused smile to the Asian guy. Bellamy turns to them for the first time since Clarke arrived and seems to realize he hasn’t explained their presence. 

“Shit, sorry,” he says. Really, his sister is missing, pleasantries can be tossed away for the moment, but she knows better than to say this. “This is Harper,” he inclines his head towards the blonde girl, then to the guy beside her. “And Monty.”

“Long time no see,” Harper tells Miller and Raven.

Monty claps Bellamy on the shoulder, clearly, he’s been bonding with Harper and Monty while she’s tearing into Miller and Raven. The thought makes her both nervous and excited. New people equals new experiences, and maybe a chance to not completely fall on their asses here. But it also will disrupt the dynamic between her and Bellamy and Octavia. 

“Leave it to us to pick up members from the same group of strays,” Raven says, grinning. 

Clarke frowns. Clearly, they’re missing something. 

“We live together,” Monty supplies. “At the warehouse on the corner of seventh and third.”

“Clarke saw the stoop,” Miller adds. “So I guess we’re being honest about where we live with possible psychopaths.”

Clarke shoots him a look. “I thought you were the one telling me you weren’t going to go all Son of Sam on me.”

Miller laughs a little. “You don’t give even an inch, do you?”

“No, she doesn’t,” Bellamy says, a little defensive. 

She holds back rolling her eyes. As much as she appreciates Bellamy sticking up for her, she already feels lame compared to Miller and Raven. The last thing she wants is to keep encouraging that mindset from them. He senses this and backs off a little, but she fears the damage might already be done. They haven’t even been here a day, and yet, Clarke feels like a mess. Like she’ll never fully prove herself, even though Raven told her she was an official New Yorker. That idea still seems so far off, she can’t even imagine it right now. 

As soon as her mind goes back to Octavia, she feels awful for thinking about herself right now. 

“So you guys didn’t find anything either?” Clarke asks Bellamy, Harper, and Monty. 

Bellamy looks even more despaired and she regrets asking. Harper’s expression turns soft. “No, I’m sorry. We looked around the usual spots newbies hit up, but maybe that’s not right?”

Clarke presses her lips into a thin line. “I’m not sure where Octavia would go, honestly. When she’s pissed, she doesn’t exactly think too straight.”

“Lucky us,” Miller muses. Raven swats at the back of his head. “Ouch, rage-filled much?”

“It’s okay,” Bellamy replies. “You guys really don’t have to help. Clarke and I will keep trying.”

“At this hour?” Raven raises a brow. “You gotta be kidding. No way do we let two greenies wander around the city without us. You’re just asking to get jumped.”

Clarke crosses her arms over her chest, but she exchanges a look with Bellamy. As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, Raven’s right. They don’t know where they are or want they’re doing. Even if they looked all night, they might never find Octavia without their help. 

“Okay, so where do we starting looking now?”

Raven snorts. Miller actually barks out a laugh. Monty and Harper exchange a silent look that says more than either one of them has said the whole time Clarke’s been in their presence. 

“What’s so funny?” Bellamy scowls.

Raven responds, “We get it, you wanna be Batman, but also, you gotta learn some hard shit right now. And part of that is the fact that you can’t just go wandering around the city you don’t know at night.”

“But you know it,” Clarke protests.

“Exactly,” Monty speaks up. “We know it enough that there’s no way for it to be a smart move to keep looking for her.” 

Bellamy opens his mouth but he doesn’t give him the room to speak. “We might look wicked as hell, but we also know when to pack it in and stay safe. There are much worse things out in this neighborhood than us, and if you wanna learn how to survive here, then you gotta learn the tough shit now.”

Bellamy contemplates this for a while, and she can see the war going on in his mind. How much he doesn’t want for Monty’s words to be the truth. How much he needs to find Octavia before something bad happens to her. She’s terrified for her friend herself, and can’t imagine what he’s going through. 

“Fine,” Bellamy exhales. “We start looking first thing in the morning though. I don’t care how safe it is.”

Harper offers a small smile. “Of course.”

“Where are you guys staying?” Raven asks. “We can help you get back there and come get you tomorrow morning.”

Clarke and Bellamy look at one another, her feeling a bit ashamed for their plans. They seemed fine during their trip here, but now, she isn’t sure she wants to admit it to the rest of them. 

“What?” Monty frowns. “Look, we’re helping you find her now, alright? No use trying to getting us to quit it now.”

“It’s not that,” Clarke says.

“Then what?” Miller asks. “Don’t tell me: you’re secretly rich and are being put up at the Ritz.”

“Ha,” Clarke deadpans. 

“Please,” Bellamy adds. 

“So…” Raven trails off. 

“We, uh, we’re staying at the truck,” Bellamy finally tells them.

It goes much worse than if they told them they really were rich and staying at the Ritz.

“Are you fucking stupid?” Harper demands, breaking the sunny disposition she’s maintained up until then. 

Clarke’s too taken aback by that to register much of what the others say. It’s a smattering of similar things though. Mostly focusing on how idiotic they are and what were they thinking and do they know the kind of place this is. Bellamy tries to defend them, but really, there isn’t much either one of them can say. They really are in over their heads. But Clarke’s just realizing how much now. 

Raven rubs her hand across her forehead. “Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t believe I’m saying this but…” She meets Miller’s eye, who nods. “You’re gonna stay with us tonight, got it?”

Clarke goes to protest that they absolutely _can’t_ do that. It’s too much. Besides, they barely even know them. This kind of thing doesn’t happen outside of TV shows. And they especially don’t happen to kids like Bellamy and Clarke and Octavia. Raven won’t allow the idea for them to argue to be even entertained. 

“No discussion,” she says. “Now, come on, it’s Murphy’s turn to scrounge up some food, so it might not actually suck tonight.”

Bellamy and Clarke look at one another. They give in. After all, what else are they really supposed to do?

“Fine,” Clarke says. “But it’s just for one night. Until we find Octavia.”

Miller rolls his eyes. “That’s what they all say.”

Bellamy frowns and shoots Clarke a look, but she just shrugs. City kids are _weird_ it turns out. She’ll still take it though. The warehouse might look stingy, but it beats the truck. 

They head back to the truck to get their things after Monty warns them to take anything that’s even remotely enticing to a junkie or possible thief. When they get there, a figure is leaning against the truck. Bellamy lets go of all the tension he’d been holding for hours. Clarke races at the truck, recognizing her even from a distance.

“Do not run at strangers!” Raven chastizes. “God, are you five?”

But Clarke and Bellamy aren’t listening. Once they reach her, Clarke pulls Octavia in for a hug, half-laughing, half-waiting for a chance to rip her a new one. When she releases her, Octavia swallows. 

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I was an idiot and a dumbass and I probably freaked you out so,” she gestures to Bellamy and Clarke, “just lay it on me.”

Clarke wants to go for it. Now that the relief has subsided, there’s anger there. At Octavia. At the whole situation, really. Things aren’t going at all as she imagined. She knows, objectively, that they weren’t going to be perfect. Nothing in life ever is, which she fully understands. She guesses she thought it wouldn’t be this bad right away though. 

She waits for Bellamy to go first, thinking that out of the two of them, he’s the one that’s been hurt most by Octavia taking off. Even if it was in part his fault for the fight in the first place. 

“I’m pissed,” Bellamy tells her and she hangs her head in defeat. Just as Clarke’s expecting a lecture, he brings her in for another hug. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

Octavia makes a noise of surprise but links her arms around Bellamy all the same. 

“I’m guessing you’re the person we’ve spent hours looking for?” Miller asks, a little disgruntled. Raven shoots him a look but he ignores her. “Your friend and brother are quite annoying, you know.”

Monty huffs out, “Because you’re a ball of sunshine and rainbows.”

“Just because I’m not Harper—” Miller starts but Harper cuts him off, “Jackass, I am more than that and you know it.”

Miller raises his hands in defeat. Octavia gives Bellamy and Clarke a wry smile. 

“Friends of yours?” she asks. 

“Debatable,” Raven replies for them.

Octavia raises her brows. “I like ‘em.”

“Of course you do,” Miller tells her. “We’re rad.”

“There’s nothing lamer than complimenting yourself,” Monty tells him. 

Miller opens his mouth but Clarke interrupts before the rest of them can start again. “So, Octavia, where were you? I thought we covered everywhere you could’ve gone.”

Octavia goes a bit quiet and Bellamy groans. 

“I went to a payphone to call Atom,” she explains. “I told him where I am, and that we’re not getting married.” Clarke breathes out a sigh. But Octavia keeps going. “It was fine and all, except, he, you know, cried. It went on for a while. So I got hungry so I went to a burger place.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Well, at least you called it off. Atom might’ve not been my favorite—”

“You hated him!” Octavia exclaims. 

Bellamy considers this. “Maybe. But regardless, you did the right thing.”

“Plus,” Clarke adds. “Now we can be assured you won’t get completely lost next time you and Bellamy get into a fight.”

“Actually…” she corrects.

Clarke sighs. “What now?”

“I did get lost,” Octavia tells her. “Totally lost. Like I was never gonna see you guys again and carve out a life out of a cardboard box kind of lost. But then I met this guy and—”

Bellamy curses. “You gotta be kidding me.”

Octavia gets a mischievous smile on her face, one that Clarke knows quite well. It’s the look when she knows she shouldn’t do something, but plans to anyway. It’s also coincidentally the look that doubles Bellamy’s blood pressure. 

“His name is Lincoln, and he’s gorgeous and smart and amazing.” Clarke pats Bellamy on the shoulder. It was nice to have Octavia without a boy in her sights while it lasted. All of three minutes. A new record. “And,” she continues, “without him, I never would’ve made it back to the truck.”

“Where he just left you,” Bellamy points out. “I mean, you could’ve been killed standing here!”

Raven coughs. Clarke turns around and she shrugs. “I’m the first to point out the many ways that you three are going to get yourselves killed, but standing next to this hunk of junk? Not gonna happen.”

Bellamy makes a noise of protest at the insult to the truck, but Clarke shoots him a warning look and he drops it. 

“He left me,” Octavia states, “because he had to get to his job as a nurse over at Columbia University Hospital. That’s a fancy school, in case you haven’t heard.”

“Not a fancy neighborhood though,” Monty points out. Octavia tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes. He looks immediately regretful and backtracks, “But, uh, aces school and hospital.”

Octavia flashes him a grin before turning back to Bellamy. “He’s awesome, and he invited me to a concert tomorrow night.”

“The Fugazi one?” Harper perks up. 

Octavia nods. “That’s the one.”

“We’re actually planning to go too,” Harper says, glancing at the others. “If you’re with us, you’ll definitely get in. No problem.” When Miller’s eyes widen at the offer, she waves a hand. “Will you drop it with the protection of our ‘rep’ already? They’re with us now, even Raven will admit that.”

Raven sniffs. “Perhaps.” When Harper gives her an unimpressed look, she amends it. “Fine, yeah, whatever. Now, if this whole interaction hasn’t been more interesting than an episode of _Springer_ , I’m starving. So let’s get the hell out of here before the fight club collective comes out.”

Bellamy grows concerned. “Is that a real thing?”  
  


Clarke bites her lip. “I’m guessing we have more to worry about than just that.”

Raven grins. “So much more.”

* * *

Bellamy doesn’t know what to make of Harper, Monty, Raven, and Miller. When he first imagined setting out with his sister and Clarke, he kind of figured it’d be just three of them for a while, at least. As cool as the others seem, he doesn’t trust them. Not yet. It takes more than just offers of helping find his sister and one night of lodging to get through his walls. While Octavia seems more than overjoyed by the new company, he knows Clarke feels similar to him. 

As O chats away with Monty on their way back in the direction Clarke came, he and Clarke stay close to one another. 

“You think this is a smart move?” he checks with her. 

She shrugs. “We might be getting robbed, or be idiots, or both, but...What other choice do we have?”

He has to admit, she does have a point. 

If it wasn’t for Clarke telling him that they should at least accept the offers the others were providing, then he probably would’ve told them he didn’t need their help. As they walk to the warehouse where they all live though, he knows Clarke’s right. They’re so green they don’t know what the hell they’re doing. If nothing else, then the others will make sure they can start off running actually upright. 

Of course, all of that newfound confidence in them goes away as soon as they enter the warehouse.

“This,” Harper says as Monty shuts the door and locks the multiple deadbolts behind them, “is The Dropship.” 

The first thing Bellamy thinks about the space is chaos. 

The second is that it’s the coolest space he’s ever seen.

The third is that something smells _really freakin’ good._

The warehouse is haphazardly decorated with about a million different aesthetics going on. Everything from a book covered coffee table to a leather chair with spikes on the back to old disco posters hanging on the stained walls. There are colorful rugs scattered along the floor, and with good reason, since it looks even worse than the walls. Any and every kind of furniture that could possibly be used for sitting is around the main space. He notices, much to his appreciation and relief, there are tapes and records _everywhere_ and a massive duct-taped together stereo on top of an old bar cart. There’s also no TV in sight. And that’s just the main room on the first floor. A rounded stairwell leads up to another two levels, he guesses. There’s even a fireman’s pole that comes down beside the stairwell too. 

“Sweet place,” Octavia says. Then her stomach rumbles so audibly everyone else hears it too.

Before he can chastise his sister, Raven laughs. “Thanks, but the kitchen’s through here.” 

Following the others, she starts to lead them through a doorway covered only by a curtain of beads that look like they belong from his mom’s dancing days. 

“Sorry for the disco crap,” Miller sighs. “Jasper is permanently stuck in 1976.”

“Says the one wearing blue eyeshadow,” Monty quips, a little defensive in his tone. 

Miller raises his hands in defeat. “Don’t worry, I’m not coming for your boy’s decor. Well, not this time, anyway.”

Monty grumbles but the argument falls away when Clarke asks, “Wait, how many people live here exactly?”

Harper screws up her face, clearly doing the math. Miller starts counting on his fingers. Raven answers in the end.

“Eight. There’s me, the valiant person that keeps this place running on sheer will, Miller, Harper, and Monty, of course. Then Murphy, and Miller’s boyfriend Bryan,” she places a large emphasis on boyfriend. Bellamy senses Miller tense a little and Harper watches them closely. 

Octavia rolls her eyes and steamrolls right into it. “Oh for fuck’s sake, we aren’t bigots.” 

Bellamy feels a bit of his pride called into question, but he supposes they are the outsiders, after all. 

Clarke cuts in, while she’s in agreement with his sister, he knows she feels the need to clarify. “What Octavia means is, we’re cool.” 

She nudges Bellamy and he nods. 

“Great.” Raven grins. “Because if you aren’t, I’ll kick your asses out on the spot. Now, where was I...Right, Bryan. Then there’s Jasper. Which leaves—”

She’s cut off by a surly looking Asian girl descending down the fireman’s pole, one-handed. Bellamy sees that the other hand is at her side. It’s badly scarred. Not wanting to be an ass, he quickly diverts his attention away from it. She lands with a thud beside Clarke. 

“Emori,” Raven finishes. “Emori, meet Octavia, Bellamy, and Clarke.”

The girl named Emori gives them an amused once-over before turning to Raven. “You didn’t tell me we turned into a Church group for the innocent.”

Miller chokes out a laugh and Harper suppresses a smile. 

“Are we really that green?” Octavia grumbles.

“Yes,” the rest of them answer, in unison, no less. Which was a lot creepier than Bellamy thought it looks on TV.

Emori gives them all a little salute with two of her fingers from her non-scarred hand. “Nice to meet you guys, and welcome to Hell.”

“Thank you?” Clarke gets out. 

“You’re welcome,” Emori replies without pause. Raven starts to herd them all back in the direction towards but Emori halts her before she does. “We might as well get it out of the way now, my dear fellow comrade in arms,” she says to the other. 

Raven sighs. “Very well.” She points to the brace on her leg. “See this?”

Clarke looks at Bellamy as if to ask, ‘Is this a trick question?’ but before he can think of a response, Raven goes on. 

“This is a shitty thing I’ve had for a couple of years. I don’t like talking about it, and I’m not gonna tell you how it happened until we’re at the level of me feeling comfortable about getting sappy drunk with you. It doesn’t debilitate me in any major ways, and I’m awesome, with or without the brace. It’s just there, and please, for the love of God, don’t stare at it like I’m a character from _Star Wars._ Got it?”

The three of them nod, and Raven, seemingly satisfied, flashes a smile. “Good. Now, I give the floor to my,” she rolls her eyes, “comrade in arms, Emori.”

Emori holds up her hand. “Like Raven, I have a thing that people like to gawk at and be general assholes about. I’ve had it my whole life, so I don’t need your pity or whatever cliche crap you’ve got to throw at me. Don’t treat me like crap, and I won’t kick your ass. Cool?”

“We’re cool,” Clarke says and Emori seems to accept she’s speaking for all of them. 

“Now,” Harper rubs her hands together, “let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

As they enter the kitchen, Bellamy is surprised by how large it is, especially for a space like this one. In the kitchen are two guys. One scrawny and jumping around to the music playing, the other tasting something from a giant pot on the stove. 

“You’re gonna eat like freakin’ kings here,” Harper tells them. “Well, as long as Murphy’s cooking.” 

The one by the pot sets the spoon down. He takes one look at Bellamy, Clarke, and Octavia and then glares at Raven.

“What did I say.”

“Murphy—” she starts.

“No,” he gestures with a larger wooden spoon that has tape around it half-way down, “I said, and I quote, ‘No more strays’. And what do you do? This isn’t a potluck in the suburbs Raven. I can’t perform under this kind of pressure to feed the entire city.”

Raven rolls her eyes. “One,” she holds up a finger, “you love pressure, it’s like damn catnip to you. And two,” she holds up another, “it isn’t _only_ my fault. You should be yelling at Harper and Monty and Miller, too.”

Murphy narrows his eyes at all of them except Emori. “You are dead to me. No one eats except Emori and Jasper.”

The kid that must be Jasper jumps into the air, fist-raised. “Finally! Murphy’s approval. Plus, more food for me. Best day ever.” Then he notices Octavia in a way that has Clarke laughing and Bellamy rolling his eyes. “Hello there, I’m—” Jasper starts to say as he leans against the kitchen counter in an effort to be smooth, no doubt, but is disrupted when he presses down on a ladle and it goes flying up then hits him in the head. 

Monty makes a movement with his hand for Jasper to knock it off. 

Octavia laughs though. “I’m Octavia.” She nods to Bellamy. “My brother, Bellamy, but don’t let the frosty glare he’s giving you fool you, he’s a teddy bear.” She beams at Clarke. “And this is Clarke.”

Clarke waves. Bellamy narrows his eyes. But then Clarke shoves him and he clears his throat. “Nice to meet you guys,” he says, a little gruffly. 

“Like I said,” Octavia says. “Teddy bear.”

Bellamy shoots her a glare and she sticks out her tongue at him. So mature. If he wasn’t the one who raised her, he’d think whoever it was really didn’t try much. The sad fact is, this is Octavia at her best. He hopes it lasts through the evening. 

“Murphy, you’re not actually gonna withhold food, are you?” another kid asks as he comes into the room, taking a seat in one of the barstools Miller’s occupying. 

They don’t do anything coupley, but Bellamy knows this must be Bryan, and not just because he’s met all the other people who (apparently) live there full time. 

Murphy sniffs. “It’s what you deserve.” He cuts a glance. “I could, however, be persuaded.”

“I’m not sleeping with you again,” Emori snarks at him. 

Murphy gasps. “How dare you cheapen me in that way.”

Emori raises a brow and he pouts.

“Raven!” Emori says and gestures to Murphy.

“Murphy, you better fucking feed us, or I’ll feed _you_ to the pigeons that Jasper’s named after us all that eat our beer peanuts on the roof.”

Murphy contemplates this for what Bellamy assumes is one of many over-dramatic pauses in this household. 

“Fine,” he settles on. “I will feed you the amazing gazpacho that I painstakingly prepared while you rounded up all the lost children of the neighborhood like we’re some kind of daycare.”

“Awesome,” Raven deadpans.

Bryan looks up at a retro clock hanging crooked on the wall. “Better eat fast. Got my show tonight.”

Jasper grins. “Yes! Newbies, you gotta come, there’s no better way to introduce you to NYC.”

Clarke shrugs but eventually nods. Then Octavia says, “Bitchin’.” Bellamy knows he’s going, whether he wants to or not. 

He’s betting that this isn’t the last time he’s going to feel like that.

The dinner situation is even more chaotic than the set-up of the physical space. None of the bowls or plates match. Half of them are cracked or glued or taped together. Jasper eats his meal with the ladle that hit him in the head since there aren’t enough spoons. Everyone’s on top of each other. Fighting for space, for being the one people are actually listening to, for seconds or thirds of the food. It’s madness.

Bellamy loves it so much he isn’t sure ‘love’ encompasses it enough. 

And all the while, music plays in the background, and he knows, without really _knowing it_ in that moment, that he and Octavia and Clarke have found something that feels more like a home than Arkadia Springs ever did. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading ❤︎
> 
> you can find me on tumblr (@animmortalist)


	4. There's a Little More to Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one follows the rest of Bellamy, Clarke, and Octavia's first night in the city, which wouldn't be without a surprise or two. then we see them settle into city living and all the ups and downs that go along with that. we also get more into the group dynamic, and the development of Bellamy and Clarke's relationship. 
> 
> *chapter title is from Tom Petty's 'American Girl'.*

Bellamy figures the show Bryan’s playing for is for his band. It turns out, Bryan isn’t in a band at all. He does perform though, just not in the way he expected. 

Of course, no one bothers to fill that in until they’re all laughing at him. 

“So,” he starts, wanting to make conversation as they clean up the disaster that is dinner at The Dropship. Murphy sits on the counter with a beer, claiming that since he cooked, he doesn’t have to clean. It seems to be one of the only rules everyone adheres to without much of a fight. “What kind of music are we seeing tonight?”

Bryan finished eating and then immediately bounded up the rounded staircase. Bellamy’s never seen someone need so much time to prepare. Then again, he’s only ever been to one concert in his life, and he’s not sure if a gas station rock band even counts. It makes him think about what kind of act he and his band might be. Maybe he’s in store for something like Bowie. Though, really, he worries he’ll have to lie about how good the performance is. After all, Bowie above all. 

Miller huffs out a laugh. Raven and Emori look at one another. 

Clarke frowns. “What? Is it a secret or something? Or is one of the laws of New York that you don’t ask about a gig before you go?”

Bellamy knows something is up when Jasper goes to reply but Monty elbows him in the ribs. He doesn’t ask about it though, not when Murphy distracts him. 

“It might not be your guys’ thing, but we gotta support Bryan.”

“Oh,” he says, more confused than he was minutes before. Really, he just wants to know what kind of music Bryan’s into. And maybe prepare an easy lie or two in case it’s something awful like urban country. 

“Yeah,” Monty supplies, biting his cheek before continuing. “It’s usually a lot of Prince. Heavy on the disco callbacks, too.”

“Well, Prince is pretty good,” Bellamy replies. O likes him more than he does by miles, but he doesn’t want to insult Bryan or the others. Besides, as much as disco isn’t his thing, he thinks he can survive it for one night (with enough booze). “They a specific kind of cover band or do they play original stuff too?”

“It’s all pretty original,” Emori says, which makes Bellamy furrow his brow because Monty just said that they play covers. Before he can ask though, O jumps in. 

“That’s great!” O exclaims as she finishes wiping down a bowl. She shoots Bellamy a look. “We’re thrilled, in fact, overjoyed. Thanks again for taking our sorry asses in.” 

Right. Of course, O thinks he’s gonna ruin their chances of actually having a real roof over their heads their first night in the city. Really, she has a point. He can’t fault her completely for bulldozing over him a little. 

He starts in on an apology, just in case he has offended anyone. “I didn’t mean—”

Miller holds up a hand. “Relax, dude.”

He feels a little relieved. That is until Murphy starts cracking up. So hard he swears there are tears welling in the corner of his eyes. 

Clarke and him exchange a look before she asks, “What? What else are we horribly ignorant about?”

O sighs. “Just lay it on us, I guess.” She’s a bit defeated. He knows it’s probably his fault, and it sucks shit that their reps are already not at all like they thought they’d be. Even according to the nicest people they’d met since they arrived there. 

“Goddamnit, Murphy,” Raven says, trying to conceal her own smile. “Do you know how much longer we could’ve dragged this out?”

Murphy raises his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry okay, but—” He looks over at Bellamy and gestures to his face before cracking up all over again. 

Clarke crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure what’s so funny. As far I know, Bellamy didn’t do anything wrong so why are you all—”

“Clarke, it’s okay,” he interrupts.

She gives him this look and he knows it’s useless to try and deter her. 

“No, it isn’t,” she says, steadfast. “We’re very grateful for you guys letting us crash here, but if you’re just gonna make fun of us because we don’t know your secret New Yorker code, then we’d rather sleep in the truck.”

“No, no we wouldn’t!” O intervenes, waving her arms a little. She looks like she might go into even more exclamations that border on begging. But she shuts up when Clarke shoots her a raised brow. 

Bellamy gives Clarke a nod though. She smiles a bit and nods back. If they’re gonna get kicked out on their asses, then they’re gonna do it together. Even Octavia seems to accept this and doesn’t try to get Clarke to back down again. 

He expects an array of reactions. Anywhere from them making fun of them even more to demanding they vacate the warehouse immediately. Regardless, he certainly doesn’t expect them all to _laugh_. Again. 

Clarke rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to start in on them again, but before she can, Raven interrupts.

“Yikes. Dude, come on, we were just shooting the shit. No need to threaten to fight us all gladiator style to defend Bellamy’s honor.”

Clarke presses her lips into a thin line, and Miller jumps in, “It was just too easy,” he nods to Bellamy, “you walked right into it and we couldn’t resist.”

“Walked right into what?” O asks, her curiosity getting the better of her no doubt. 

Before any of them can answer, Bryan calls from the stairs, “I hope you prepared them! The last thing we need is another Fainting Newbie situation.”

“That was one time!” Jasper explains to Bellamy, Clarke, and O. “It hardly counts!”

“Jasper,” Emori says, patting him on the shoulder. “It definitely counts.”

He goes in to defend himself more, and in the process, probably dig himself even deeper in the hole he’s already started. But before he can start in earnest, Bellamy hears the clumping of what he assumes are Bryan’s boots. Before he turns around to take in whatever attire Bryna’s band wears (and thus, predict what kind of music they’re going to have to listen to tonight) he sees Clarke’s eyes go wide and O’s jaw actually drops. Bellamy almost gasps when he sees him. 

Bryan sighs and turns to the others. “You didn’t warn them, did you?”

Bellamy’s never seen anything like what Bryan’s wearing. Not even on one of Bowie’s album covers. He doesn’t have the words to describe it really. He thinks Dax might’ve used less than stellar words to describe exactly the kind of show Bryan’s actually putting on. 

The kind of plain-looking white guy has been replaced by someone else entirely. In fact, if he didn’t sound like Bryan, and if the others didn’t acknowledge him as such, Bellamy might’ve thought they were playing another prank on him. 

Bellamy’s eyes start at the top of Bryan’s look and go down, taking in every detail. Bryan’s brown hair is concealed by a brilliant teal wig. So tall Bellamy thinks it might pick up a radio signal. There’s gotta be at least six pounds of hairspray in it to keep it in its wave-formation. 

Across his face are sparkles and glitter, all blue and purple and green. His eyeshadow looks like the same color Miller’s got on, except there’s about ten more layers of thickness over his own lids. He’s got fake lashes on, which Bellamy’s never seen on anyone except old pictures of his mom. They look like they’re five inches, easy, and are perfectly curled in wide arches. His lips are painted a dark blue and his cheeks stained pink with blush. 

The only time Bellamy’s seen this much makeup on any one person is when O was six and got into their mom’s stuff and coated her whole face in it. But on Bryan, it looks a hell of a lot better. He can tell, even though he knows fuck all about makeup, that the other has a lot of skill in applying it all. 

Then there’s the outfit itself. As if all of the makeup and hair weren’t nearly enough. The dress starts out a light blues and purples and greens, but as it goes on, it takes on darker shades until it fades into a midnight blue. There are sequins and gemstones embedded all over the dress, so whenever Bryan makes the slightest movement the whole thing glitters. The dress is long, almost gown-like, but on Bryan’s feet are the biggest spray-painted heeled boots Bellamy’s ever seen. They also have gemstones glued to them like the dress but are such a dark purple they look almost black. 

“You can applaud. If you must,” Bryan says, grinning as he lifts a lock of wig out his eyes. 

It’s impressive, wildly so, and Bellamy finds he can only shake his head and grin. “Holy shit,” he finally gets out. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you just tell us what the show really is?” Clarke demands, but Bellamy can tell she isn’t all that pissed. Not when it turns out they’re not going to a gig at all, but _their first drag show._ Jasper’s right. It does seem like the perfect way to be introduced to New York. 

“Because it would ruin our enjoyment for the looks on your faces,” Emori replies. 

Bryan rolls his eyes. “They think my art is funny. It’s a dreadful life I live.”

Miller snorts. “Of course, it is. That’s why people pay you actual money to dance and sing Whitney Houston.”

Bryan points a finger at him, which Bellamy now sees is painted green. “No disrespecting Whitney when I’m Aquamarine.”

“My apologies,” Miller replies, and Bryan beams.

“Aquamarine?” Clarke asks. 

“Oh, shit, duh, you guys are country mice and know nothing of culture.” At this, Murphy rolls his eyes. Bryan flips him off. “I saw that. Now, when I perform, I can’t go by Bryan, I mean, blah. So, I came up with the persona and the outfit, and Harper helped with the name. Thus, on a beautiful spring day, Aquamarine was born. And while I’m in The Look, I’d prefer it if you referred to me as so. I don’t care much about pronouns, so use whatever.” He shrugs. “It makes things simpler. Plus, it’s a hell of a name, don’t you think?”

Bellamy nods, still a little stunned and probably in a bit of culture shock. Mostly because he doesn’t think he’s ever met someone as confident in a complete shift as him. 

“It was a freezing cold night in February, but I guess everyone changes their origin story,” Emori tells them, smirking a bit. Before Aquamarine can say anything, Emori adds, “Not that I don’t respect and honor Aqua’s move on that front, of course.”

Harper stops Murphy from getting another beer out of the industrial fridge that’s definitely seen better days.

“Come on,” she says. “If we wait around for Octavia to pick her jaw up off the floor then we’ll have to practically run there from the subway.” She shoots a grin at Aquamarine. “And we can’t have tonight’s _star_ be late, can we?”  
  


Aquamarine feigns a shudder. “Absolutely not.”

Clarke flashes him a grin before asking, “So what kind of space do you perform in?”

“We’ve never been to a real show before,” Octavia explains and Clarke nods. 

Raven gasps. “You never went to a drag show in bumfucknowhere Pennslyvania? I’m shocked.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes as they make their way out of The Dropship, Monty locking the thick door behind them. He notices how important it is for them to lock up. He and Clarke never really had to worry about that kind of thing back at Arkadia Springs. Sure, the trailers came with flimsy locks and you’d do it at night before going to bed. But that was mostly to keep out drunkards or the occasional thieving kid. Never because actual danger seemed to be a threat. He presses the thought away, not wanting to be the only one of the three of them afraid of the big bad city. 

“Hardy-har. You’re a real comedian.”

“I know,” she says before he can continue. 

“What I meant is,” O interrupts, giving him an eye which he pointedly ignores. “Is that we’ve never been to any kind of show. Period.”

Monty shakes his head. Jasper pretends to faint, which makes Miller shove him. Miller gets shoved by Harper in return, who stumbles into Aquamarine, who bursts out, “Not the hair!”

Murphy yells at the rest of them to quit it before he gapes at Bellamy, Octavia, and Clarke for a moment before saying, “You’re kidding.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Not in the least. I mean, we saw a couple of performances at the county fair when we were kids, but...They weren’t exactly high caliber shows.”

“Clarke’s being too kind to them, really,” O says. “They were shit. Complete and total shit. Like so shit it’s not even the original shit, but like shit piled on top of it. Top tier shit.”

“Wow,” Emori smirks. “We really had no idea what we were getting into by allowing the three of you into our lives, did we?”

As they descend down the stairs into the subway, Bellamy replies, “Probably not.”

“Is it too late to return them?” Emori asks Raven.

She pretends to contemplate her answer. If she isn’t so overdramatic in the tapping of her finger against her chin or the way she screws up her face, he probably would’ve been worried they’re serious.

“Nah,” she settles on. “I think they’ll prove their worth in other ways.”  
  


Clarke pretends to let out a relieved sigh. When their train arrives, Monty and Jasper wrestle one another for a seat. Harper sighs and tells them to watch themselves. They stick out their tongues at her and she throws up her hands. 

“Thank god,” O deadpans. “Whatever would we have done?”

Murphy narrows his eyes at her. “Hey, we are being very unlike New Yorkers to do this, so the least you can do is fake it like this one,” he nods to Clarke. 

She shrugs. “Clarke’s nicer than me.”

“I don’t know about that…” Bellamy trails off. 

Clarke whacks his shoulder with the back of her hand. “Take that back you ass. I’m a joy.”

He laughs a little. “Uh-huh, sure you are.”

“I will take you down, Bellamy, I’ve done it before,” she threatens.

“I was high!” he gets out. “And Wick dared you to, so it wasn’t even a real fight. Thus, it does not count.”

“Tell that to your ass I kicked,” Clarke replies, smug. 

“Yeah, I’ll make sure I send a message to my thirteen-year-old self.”

She nods. “Just recognition and remembrance. That’s all I ask.”

O rolls her eyes and explains to the rest of them, “I’m sorry you all have to witness this.”

“Witness what?” Clarke and Bellamy ask at the same time. 

Octavia gives them a sickly sweet smile. “Oh, nothing.”

Clarke and Bellamy look at one another and shrug before Jasper demands everyone else’s attention away from them by reenacting Aquamarine’s routine from last week. 

“Now I’m just insulted,” he says. 

He stops Jasper before he hurts someone to properly teach him the moves in the middle of the subway car. Bellamy’s struck by his surprise for the group’s behavior and appearances. If anyone dressed or acted like this back at the trailer park, they’d get the shit kicked out of them. And that’d be the nicest thing that would happen to them. He can’t believe it all. The openness of the city, the freedom. The confidence and resolute individuality of the people. The ones he might be able to now call friends. There’s something magical about it all, something he isn’t sure he can even touch yet, but which he wants to longingly be a part of. Even more so, he’s surprised that they only get an occasional loaded look. It’s from a group of construction workers, about halfway to the club where the show is. The looks make him tense. But before anything even begins to break out, Murphy shuts them down with a glare of his own. 

When they arrive at the club, Aquamarine gives Miller a quick kiss and then disappears around the back of the building. The rest of them make their way inside and he watches as Clarke excitedly takes in each detail. He knows she’s thinking about drawing or painting the whole thing. Bellamy’s never been to a drag club before but The Birdcage seems to be one of a kind even amongst that group. 

They grab drinks, though Raven insists on Bellamy, Octavia, and Clarke not paying this time. “Don’t worry,” she says, “once you’re on your feet, we’ll make sure you do.” The thought fills him with an intense sense of happiness. Originally, he believed their help would end with that one night. But with her comment, he thinks they might just want to keep them. While he still doesn’t trust them completely, he can’t deny it’d be nice to keep knowing them.

Just before the show starts, they take their seats, right at the front, where places are reserved for ‘special guests’. 

The lights go down and the crowd cheers. He looks around him and notices more than one are dressed in less detailed versions of Aquamarine’s attire. Clarke’s leg is jumping she’s so excited. While it might not be a Talking Heads or The Replacements, it’s something new, thrilling, and so much more than words can properly express. He looks at O, whose eyes are trained on the stage. Nothing can beat this, he thinks. And then the show starts, and he realizes he was dead wrong. 

It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced. 

First, all the performers do their introductions. They have mics and someone’s set up a spotlight. Each one of them has a ‘bit’ they do when they get to the front of the stage. Some of them kick up their leg or do a little dance. One of them blows bubbles from a wand they extract from their wig. When Aquamarine comes out, Bellamy yells along with the rest of the group so loud his throat hurts. It turns out his bit is a full-on split that he jumps out of. Even as their group is cheering, Bellamy knows the whole room is too. Clearly, Aqua’s a favorite around here. 

Then the dances and real performances start. It seems the shows are themed, and this one’s theme is ABBA. Bellamy isn’t sure if that counts as a theme in the real world, but The Birdcage isn’t the real world. It’s something better. 

They each seem to get to be the ‘lead’ during a song. As the show goes on, more drinks appear. These ones seemingly complimentary either because of their association with the night’s star or just because everyone’s getting so wasted they can’t keep track of who’s paid anymore. Miller lets them know at intermission that Aquamarine’s going last tonight since that number is the arguably most important one. 

When Miller gives them the nod that means it’s time for the last performance, Clarke nudges Bellamy and says, “Bet this isn’t what you expected, is it?”

He snorts. “Like you did.”

“I…” she starts and then shakes her head. “I had no idea.” She looks at him, giving him one of the biggest smiles in her whole life. He feels himself returning it without thinking twice about it. “It’s pretty fucking amazing though, right?”

He nods, feeling the possibility of this new world they’ve stumbled into all around them. “Yeah, it is.”

Bellamy doesn’t think about it, but he keeps looking at her. He can only imagine the dumbass expression he’s got on his face. Just as he goes to school it into one that’s more aligned with the concept of friendship, he notices Clarke’s lips are parted a little. Her head tilts to the side just a fraction and he thinks he must be imagining it but he swears her eyes flash to his lips for a moment. Before he can even think about what this means or what to do about it all, the music starts. In a second, the moment between them is broken. Clarke turns back to the stage, and when the delight of the song choice registers, he can’t even be all that mad about it. 

“Fuck yes!” Octavia cheers from next to Jasper and Monty. For a moment, she catches his eye. Silently, she mouths ‘thank you’. He nods. 

After all, while Clarke doesn’t know this, it was him who convinced his mom to let O come too. At first, Aurora only wanted to let Bellamy go, but he’d insisted if he was going, then so was she. Even if he still misses his mom and hates leaving her, he knows, sitting next to Clarke at his first (of hopefully many) drag shows, that it was the right call. 

Aquamarine and the other performers come out and Miller cheers as his boyfriend takes center stage. 

_Friday night and the lights are low_

_Looking out for a place to go_

_Where they play the right music, getting in the swing_

_You come to look for a king_

_Anybody could be that guy_

_Night is young and the music's high_

_With a bit of rock music, everything is fine_

_You're in the mood for a dance_

_And when you get the chance_

Clarke grasps his knee under the table and he turns to look at her for just a second. She shakes her head in amazement and before he can really register her expression she’s turning back to the stage. He quickly believes the pounding of his heart has only to do with the show. It’s immaculate and yet messy. It’s exciting and daring but never takes itself too seriously. It’s spectacular, honestly. And even though it’s not at all the kind of show he imagined seeing in New York, he couldn’t ask for it to be anything else. 

Just when Bellamy thinks things can’t get wilder, Aquamarine points out into the audience. Right at Clarke and Bellamy. Then he inclines his finger, and Bellamy knows without knowing it exactly that he’s screwed. 

Clarke’s jaw drops and she points to herself. Aquamarine nods and gestures again. Then does the same movement to Bellamy’s sister. Octavia practically yells out her joy. Clarke’s hand finds his own and he starts to shake his head no as she pulls him up. 

“Come on!” she says over the music. 

The rest of them are cheering for him, too. 

“Clarke—” he starts, but it’s no use. 

“You have to!” she shouts. Then, quieter, “For me?” 

And then he knows he really can’t say no. So, he nods and follows Clarke and O up onto the stage. 

Immediately, one of the dancers gifts him with a yellow sparkly boa. Clarke throws back her head and laughs. Then she beams when another performer drapes a blue, pink, and purple one around her own neck. O and Aquamarine are taking turns singing, a crown from one of the dancers resting crooked on her head. Bellamy spins Clarke around and they do their best to dance along with the others, clearly failing, but he supposes they make up for it with tipsy enthusiasm. 

He hears O and Aqua through their mics, his sister doing dance moves that have Clarke laughing so hard she has to lean on to him to steady herself. Bellamy looks down at her, smile so brilliant he thinks it might be able to power the entirety of The Dropship. Not knowing what to do with how his chest tightens at the thought, he starts up a new dance with one of the performers. Clarke’s laugh rings out so loud he thinks everyone must hear it. 

Around them is the chorus to a song he thought he hated but is now certain it’s the opposite. 

_You are the dancing queen_

_Young and sweet, only seventeen_

_Dancing queen_

_Feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah_

_You can dance, you can jive_

_Having the time of your life_

_Ooh, see that girl, watch that scene_

_Digging the dancing queen_

It hasn’t even ended yet, and Bellamy knows it for certain: this is the best night of his life. 

* * *

A night at The Dropship becomes two, and then five, and then finally, ten days. 

It’s on the morning of the eleventh one that Raven finally tells them, “You’re staying, so just claim some spaces already and make a sign telling people to stay out of your shit.”

“Really, it’s a sign for Emori to stay out of your shit,” Murphy corrects. 

“Hey!” she exclaims around a mouthful of Captain Crunch. Murphy raises and a brow and she admits defeat faster than Clarke’s ever seen her in the time she’s known them. “Fine,” Emori allows. “Maybe signs encourage me to stay out of your shit half the time.”

“Try a third,” Miller says as he slides down the fireman’s pole, Bryan close behind him. 

Emori narrows her eyes. “Just for that, I’m gonna be all up in your shit for days.”

Bryan shudders. “Nate, please. I really don’t need her ruining another pair of shoes for work.”

Miller rolls his eyes, but sighs and says, “I’m sorry, alright? Next time I’ll ignore the truth like everyone else.”

She grins and sticks out her hand which Miller shakes. “Deal.”

“You owe me,” he turns and says to Bryan, who returns the harsh stare with a wink.

Clarke laughs and sips at her coffee. As are the mornings at The Dropship. Certainly not the kind she imagined in New York, but ones she’s come to kind of love regardless. In their weird way, it’s how she first knew that she and Bellamy and Octavia were welcome here. That if they want, they could carve out a life for themselves alongside everyone else. 

Miller points at her. “We’ll see you laughing when it’s you.”

Clarke looks over at Bryan. “You love me?” She feigns a dramatic gasp. “You should’ve told me!”

At that, Harper laughs too and Jasper starts singing ‘Bryan and Clarke sittin’ in a tree…’ while Miller grumbles and gets his own coffee. 

“I hate you all,” he tells them. 

“Oof, the hard truth, and I haven’t even had my coffee yet,” Bellamy says as he comes through the beaded curtain and into the kitchen. 

He’s got a horrible case of bedhead and still has a sleepy look in his eyes. The combination throws her off. She tells herself to cool it. That she’s seen Bellamy like this before. But everything’s different in the blazing New York sun. Or maybe everything about Bellamy’s just more intense without him living under the weight of Arkadia Springs. He looks better, she thinks. Not that she doesn’t know, objectively speaking, of course, that he hasn’t always been hot. But she notices little things about him all the time now. The most important being how easy he smiles now. Like it doesn’t take any effort at all anymore. 

She can’t help but feel the same. Without Abby around, without worrying about cleaning up after her or what a fight between them could lead to. It feels wrong to admit it, how much she prefers her life without Abby in it. Surely, that’s wrong to admit. But it’s the truth, and now that she’s here, there’s no sense in hiding from it. She’s never breathed easier. Not even in the congestion-filled, pollution-riddled, quickly heating up with the beginnings of summer of the city. 

“I found the perfect job!” Octavia announces, almost falling as she comes down the fireman’s pole, but saving face at the last minute.

“I told you,” Harper says. “You should just apply at the dive bar we all waiter or bartend at. It’s easier. Bellamy and Clarke did fine at their shifts.”

“I think it’s about Lincoln,” Clarke supplies. 

“Ahhhh,” Monty says. “Love.”

“How do we know she loves him? I mean, come on,” Jasper huffs out. Monty pats him on the shoulder and he opens his mouth to add more. 

“Because I am madly in love with him and we are getting married on his motorcycle,” Octavia states with absolute assuredness. 

Jasper looks like he might cry for a second, but thankfully, Bellamy jumps in with telling her how she _is not_ marrying some random guy she’s only met once. Let alone on the back of a dangerous vehicle.

“I hope you mean the motorcycle,” Clarke quips, unable to help herself. 

Murphy gives her a high-five. “Nice.”

“Thank you.” She smirks. Then she notices the look on Bellamy’s face. Somewhere between disdain and betrayal. “Sorry,” she adds. 

He shakes his head and goes back to lecturing his sister. 

“Okay, but Bell,” she says when he pauses mid-rant to take a breath, “You didn’t hear how Lincoln’s gonna help me get a job.”

Bellamy crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine. How is this Lincoln going to help you get a job?”

“Because,” his sister replies, smugness dripping from her voice. God. This is gonna be good, Clarke can tell. “He patches up this dude named Smokey who owns a boxing gym. Anyway, long story short, their old receptionist ‘retired’,” this she puts in quotes, “so they need a new one. And I already met Smokey and he loves me and wants to give me the job! Can you believe it?”

Bellamy squeezes the bridge of his nose for a moment before he speaks. “Let me get this right? You want to be a receptionist?” Octavia nods. “For a guy named Smokey?” She nods again. “Who owns a boxing gym where the old receptionist disappeared at?” She falters a little. “Because some guy you don’t even know patches the guys from said boxing gym up? Do I have that right?”

Octavia swallows and juts out her chin. “Yes, you do.”

He doesn’t hesitate to answer, “No fucking way.”

“Bell—”

“No,” he tells her. “Not unless I’m dead.”

Octavia flippantly replies, “So, if you’re dead then I can work for Smokey?”

“No!” Bellamy bursts out. 

“But you just said—”

“I know what I said!” He waves his arms around, and Clarke sighs and gets more coffee. She’s got a feeling she’s gonna need it. “Because even if I do, I will haunt you forever just to make sure that you never, ever work as a receptionist at a boxing gym where the mortality rate is higher than I guess the yearly cleaning rate is.”

“God, Bell, you can’t control me our whole lives,” Octavia says. “We might still be in the same place, but this is New York! You can’t protect me from everything, and I want this, and you can’t stop me.”

“Watch me,” Bellamy fires back. “I’ll track down the boxing gym and make sure they don’t even let you in the door.”

“Fuck you,” Octavia spits. Then she runs back up the stairs. At least there aren’t real doors here, so she can’t slam it in the way Clarke knows she wants to. 

For a while, the rest of them sit in silence. Jasper opens his mouth once to speak but thinks better of it and closes it. 

Bellamy looks over at Clarke, who raises a brow.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” She sips at her coffee but says nothing. “I mean, she could be in a lot of danger, and it’s my responsibility to make sure she’s protected.” Clarke sighs and looks away. “No, I’m right. She’s wrong.” Clarke looks back over at Bellamy. “Fine,” he says. “Maybe she’s a little bit right. A little bit.” She bites at her lip. Bellamy throws up his hands. “You know what? Yes, she does have a point, okay? She’s right. I should let her take the job. Happy?” Clarke doesn’t answer, but Bellamy keeps going, “I’ll go tell her right now.” Sighing, he sets down his coffee and goes up the stairs. 

Once she hears him hit the second floor she shrugs and grins. “And that’s how it’s done,” she tells the rest of them.

“Wow,” Raven says. “That was kind of terrifying.”

“I know,” Clarke replies. She scrunches up her nose. “Is it wrong, do you think?”

Murphy considers this. “Probably not, but now we all to be in awe of you, and simultaneously deeply scared of your power.”

“Hm.” She thinks this over. “Sounds good to me.”

Jasper asks, “Do you think Octavia really meant it when she said she loves that Lincoln guy?”

“Yes,” Emori, Raven, and Murphy all say.

Harper shoots them all a look and then goes to sit by Jasper. “There are other girls. Hopefully,” she tacks on at the end.

“Don’t worry,” Clarke tells Jasper. “I think it’s better this way.”

Jasper doesn’t look convinced, but then Clarke offers to make them all screwdrivers with breakfast with some of the cheap vodka they have, and he perks right up. Bellamy and Octavia come downstairs just as she’s dishing out the drinks, all smiles. 

“Thank you,” Bellamy says when she hands him a drink. “And not just for the morning booze.”

She laughs and pokes him in the side. “Anytime.”

That night, she has another shift at Shallow Valley, the bar where almost everyone from the warehouse works. Even if they don’t work full-time, all of them have worked at least a shift there, at one point or another. It’s half-wrangling drunk people, half-making fun of the prissy college students. But Bellamy is by her side all night, so it’s not too bad. It’s by no means glamorous work, and she gets hit on more times than she can count in her first twenty minutes. But it’s work, and it beats _Jaha’s_ by miles. No shitty uniform, after all. Just a black skirt and shirt, which she already had. 

Bellamy got the bartender job, which she’s only half-jealous about by the time they start their second shift. She knows it’s because he’s a guy, and better with the customers, but she’d much rather deal out the booze than have to shoo away the wandering hands of the patrons. Harper’s right. It’s definitely a dive. 

Clarke and Bellamy take it all in stride, according to the others, who’re surprised by how little things phase them. They don’t mention what they’ve seen back home that would make this possible. Even with new friends, there are still some secrets they feel need to be kept. Though Octavia, of course, disagrees. She respects Clarke enough to not make any mentions of Abby though, and Bellamy enough to not talk about their revolving door of ‘father’ figures.

At least tonight, Raven and Jasper are both on shift with them too. Jasper gives everyone a reason to keep going, his energy demanding to be matched. Raven, meanwhile, is the best at getting rid of the creepiest guys who really only come here to gawk at women who work here. 

The shift goes by faster than her first one, and she feels more secure in each of her movements. Even when one of though movements are to, in the sweetest voice she can muster, to ask someone to get the fuck out. It probably helps that Raven tells them she’ll wack them with the baseball bat Diyoza keeps behind the bar if they don’t. 

“You’re new,” Raven tells Clarke and Bellamy once last call has rolled around. “So me and Jasper get to meet up with everyone at that bar on 10th and Avenue B, while you guys clean up. Got it?”

Clarke gives her a salute. “Ay, ay captain.”

Raven rolls her eyes and grimaces a bit as she stands up. “I’m fine,” she says before Jasper or Bellamy even begin to move to help her. They pause and let her settle things on her own. “It’s just being a bitch tonight.” 

“Come on,” Jasper drapes half his arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get that leg drunk.”

Raven snorts. “Idiot.” But she nods.

“See you guys later,” Jasper calls. 

The clean up doesn’t take long. She and Bellamy are finishing off by wiping down tables in the half the time she thought it would take. 

“Wanna go join everyone else?” she asks once they toss the rags into a bucket with a cardboard sign above it someone’s written ‘laundry’ in messy handwriting. 

“I was thinking we could have a drink here first,” Bellamy says. She frowns, unsure of why he doesn’t want to go, and if there’s something the matter. “You know, to celebrate our second shift and not dying in New York. Only if you want to, though. We can always just…”

“I’d love that,” she replies, sliding onto one of the barstools, easily soothed that he isn’t going to bail any time soon. She doesn’t know what she would do with herself if he did. 

Bellamy gets a bottle of scotch down from the bar. 

“Wow, fancy,” she muses.

He rolls his eyes. “This is the cheapest scotch they have, so, not by a long shot.”

She blushes a bit, knowing that she can’t help that all she ever knew was the cheap stuff. It’s all her mom could ever afford. And all she was comfortable enough with drinking herself. 

“You okay?” he asks, and there’s something in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

Clarke takes a healthy sip from her glass. “Yep.”

He sips from his own and laughs a little. 

“What’s funny?” she asks. 

“Nothing,” he replies. She gives him an unimpressed look, pressing for more, and knowing that he’s not being honest with her. 

He leans across the bar so they’re almost touching. “It’s just..” He swallows. “Bet I can outdrink you.”

She scoffs. “You’re on.” 

From there, they each manage two and a half glasses before Clarke calls for a time out. 

“So, how does it feel to admit defeat?” he gloats.

“I do _not_ admit defeat,” she clarifies, “it is a time out for a reason.”

But she knows if they have any chance of getting to their friends half-sober, they should quit now. 

Just as she’s about to actually throw in the towel, their eyes meet for a moment longer than feels normal.

“What now?” she asks.

“I…” he trails off. 

There’s alcohol on both of their breaths, kind of tangy and dark. She can smell Bellamy. All musty and warm. Like home. Except not Arkadia Springs. More like The Dropship, now. She thinks it might upset her, but finds she doesn’t mind it. Not at all. It seems better, this way. Then he licks his lips and her eyes stay there for too long. She knows something fundamental has been revealed. She isn’t even sure what it is exactly. Doesn’t even have the time to think about it. Not too closely, at least. 

Because one minute she’s looking over at him, still unable to avert her gaze despite knowing that she should. And the next. The next…

There’s a banging on the front door of the bar. 

They take one last look at one another and burst out laughing. Clarke almost falls out of her stool. Maybe the scotch has hit her more than she realizes. 

“Shit,” Bellamy curses, looking away from her and at the door. 

“ASSHOLES!” they hear the person shout, and it only makes them laugh harder.

It’s Octavia, of course. 

“Coming dumbass!” Clarke rings out as she hops down off of the stool. 

“Where have you been?” Octavia demands, sweeping into the room and taking turns staring them both down. 

“Cleaning up,” Bellamy tells her. “Some of us have real jobs.”

Octavia glowers at her brother. Luckily, she doesn’t notice the scotch bottle and two glasses. Or if she does, she doesn’t think they belong to them, at least. 

“Well,” she sniffs. “You’re gonna have to buy me drinks all night to make up for ditching me.”

Clarke knows better than to fight her on this. Besides, she doesn’t want her asking more questions about what she’d just walked into. Clarke doesn’t even know the answer to _that._ Hell, she wouldn’t know where to even begin. 

Bellamy acts all normal now that the moment is gone, but she wonders if some of it isn’t lingering, even as they’re pretending nothing’s wrong. Clarke chooses to steamroll past any remains of it. 

“Very well,” she agrees with Octavia. “But if you start going top shelf I’m out.”

Octavia snorts and flips a bit of her hair out of her eyes. “Since when am I top shelf?”

“When you grow some taste buds, maybe,” Bellamy teases, wiping down the bar one last time, more for show than anything else. 

“Ass,” his sister shoots at him. 

He smirks and Clarke laughs. Before Octavia can start again, she links her arms with hers. 

“Come on, our valiant metal carriage awaits.”

She doesn’t think it’ll be too bad, but the whole subway ride to the bar, all Clarke can think about is the look in Bellamy’s eyes right before Octavia interrupted them. She avoids him almost the entire night. Not enough to draw attention to it, but enough that she hopes the feeling in her stomach will go away. Testing herself, she allows them to make eye contact once. Only to break it moments later when it feels like too much. 

Goddamnit, she thinks. This is going to be a hell of a mess. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading ❤︎
> 
> feedback is always appreciated, and you can find me on tumblr (@animmortalist).


	5. Teenage Kicks (Right Through the Night)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, lovelies!! this chapter involves some discoveries about the group as well as clarke meeting a new intriguing player in our story. 
> 
> feedback is always appreciated, and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> *chapter title is from 'Teenage Kicks' by The Undertones

Clarke thinks, no, she  _ knows  _ her roommates at The Dropship are hiding something from her, Bellamy, and Octavia. She just needs to figure out what it is without possibly getting them kicked out on their asses. For weeks, she tries to put the pieces together herself. She goes through a million different scenarios. When she does get her answer, she hates it. So much so that she decides to keep it to herself, thinking there’s no point in ruining their situation. It’s difficult though, makes her antsy. Enough for the others to notice. Eventually, she can’t hold it in anymore, and she turns to Bellamy. 

She knows that in order to discuss things, she needs to get him alone. So, she proposes a walk. It’s a little strange for them, but he agrees without much fanfare. 

They’re milling around Tompkins Square Park at midday. Relaxed since their chances of being robbed are slim to none, especially since one look at them tells anyone they have nothing of value on them. Smoking and pointing out posers as they go. They’ve only been in New York for three months, but she already feels like she belongs here. Enough to judge people, at least. 

A busker’s playing a song from one of Bellamy’s mixes that they listened to during their road trip from Arkadia Springs. She smiles faintly at the memory of singing out the window as they passed the sign for New Jersey. 

_ You got a fast car _

_ I want a ticket to anywhere _

_ Maybe we make a deal _

_ Maybe together we can get somewhere _

_ Anyplace is better _

_ Starting from zero got nothing to lose _

_ Maybe we'll make something _

_ But me myself I got nothing to prove _

When she looks over at Bellamy, she feels he’s thinking about the same moment. She doesn’t have time to dwell in it though. Too eager to confide in him about the others.

“I’ve gotta tell you something,” she sighs.

Because she hates the thought of blowing their sweet circumstances. The Dropship may not be The Ritz, but it beats anything else. They’re good people, really. While she knows they steal from the corner shop and Emori has a severe pick-pocketing issue and they fight all the time, she’s grown used to them. Bellamy’s still hung onto his truck, but she’d rather not go from having her own space (calling it a room would be generous) to crashing in it with two other people. Even if those two other people are her favorite ones in the world.

He frowns and blows out smoke. “You okay?” Then his frown turns into alarm. “One of the guys at the warehouse didn’t try anything did they? I swear I’ll fucking—”

“No,” she interrupts. “Nothing like that.” She considers what she’s about to say, suddenly unsure of her suspicions. “I might just be imagining it.”

Bellamy stops and pulls her to the side of the path. “Clarke, whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”

“I know, it’s...We have a good thing going, and I don’t wanna ruin it.” 

She takes a drag from her cigarette to calm her nerves. Before New York, she only smoked occasionally, whenever she got plastered. Now, she does it almost every day. Bellamy and Octavia, too. Mostly because they get smoke breaks at work, but also, there’s something about the culture of it that entices Clarke.

“You won’t.” He’s resolute, his tone not allowing for any doubt. 

“Okay.” She nods. “I think Bryan and Miller are drug dealers. Murphy, too.”

Bellamy puts a cigarette to his lips. “So you’ve noticed too.”

Clarke gapes at him for a moment. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I guess I didn’t want it to be true.”

“And I doubt it’s just weed,” she says and is both relieved and filled with dread when Bellamy agrees. 

“So, what do you wanna do?” he asks. “We can crash in the truck for a bit until we can find somewhere cheap enough to live. We’ll probably stay in Alphabet City or at least the East Village, so we might run into them. But I’m sure O can come up with some excuse that will take some of the pressure off. And—”

“Woah,” she gets out when he goes to take a breath. “Slow down a bit, yeah?”

He turns sheepish. “Right, sorry. Didn’t really give you room to answer that one.”

She smiles, the hint of one really, but she’s amazed at how he can cheer her up so quickly. “It’s okay. But I’m not sure I want to leave,” she confesses. 

“Really?” He shakes his head. “But I thought...After your mom…”

“I know, but like you said, we’d have to crash in the truck. And then who knows what kind of place we could afford on our own. We lucked out with The Dropship. Really lucked out,” she adds when she thinks about it more. 

They could've run into anyone their first day. By chance, they happened to meet people who’d taken them in. It’s a miracle. 

“And I know I’m a bit sensitive about this sort of thing, but I can handle it.” She needs it to be true. Not just for herself, but Bellamy and Octavia, too. “I really need to cool it anyway, because it’s everywhere here. And I know they do coke when they go out or work at the bar, and you know it, too.”

“Fuck,” he lets out. “I was hoping you didn’t notice.”

She rolls her eyes. “I lived with a drug addict for my entire life. Of course, I noticed.” He winces and she places a hand on his arm. “It was a joke.” 

He screws up his face at that and she laughs. “A really lame one,” he tells her. “Major bummer.”

She chews on her lip and admits, “Yeah, well, everyone knows Octavia’s the funny one."

H e snorts. “Sometimes. Other times, I don’t know, she might be the scary one.”

“And what does that make you?” The teasing tone she’s going for falls a bit short, and it sounds almost flirty. She doesn’t even think about it, it just happens. 

Things between them were awkward for almost two weeks before Bellamy told her that it’s not a big deal. She added that they were probably just swept up in the newness of the city, the endless possibility. The thrill of it all. He agreed. And that was that. They didn’t talk about it after that. Things went back to normal between the two of them. Despite that, she can’t help but  _ feel  _ something fundamental changed that night. Not that she even considers allowing herself to try and figure out what that was. 

He blushes a bit and she chooses to ignore it by stubbing out her cigarette on the ground. There, it joins maybe dozens of others. New York may be more than she could have ever dreamed of, but it was dirty as shit. 

“The one that’s definitely gonna survive the two of you.” He gestures to her as she pulls out her pack of American Spirits. 

She scoffs. “Please. You smoke just as much as us these days. And what’s worse, you smoke Marlboro Reds.”

“Hey,” he says, fake offended. She knows because he can’t contain his smile. “I’ll have you know that they’re far superior.” She gives him A Look. “Fine,” he allows. “They’re far cheaper.”

She grins. “That’s more like it. Now come on, I saw Murphy making mac n cheese before we left. Wanna go steal it?"

“I would love nothing more.” Clarke does her best to ignore how her heartbeat picks up at the mischievous look in his eyes. It doesn’t work, but she thinks Bellamy doesn’t notice. 

Even though Clarke assures him she’s fine with living with drug dealers, it doesn’t sit right with Bellamy. Which is why he decides to confront them about it. He means to do it privately, respectfully as possible when you’re accusing someone of dishing out heroin and crack and coke like some kind of fucked up ice cream man. 

It doesn’t go as planned, which he should’ve known would happen from the beginning, given everything else that’s happened. 

They’re sitting down for family dinner. Something that happens with as many people who are around. Tonight, Harper and Monty are on shift at the bar. But everyone else is there. Everything’s going just fine. Until Bryan’s pager goes off and he curses. 

“Be back in a few,” he says and gets up from the table. No one even acknowledges it, too involved in the chaos of dinner. 

Before Bryan can leave the kitchen though, Bellamy stands up, puts both hands on the metal tabletop he’s convinced Emori stole from somewhere, and says, “That’s it.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Bellamy, don’t.”

“No, Clarke,” he says. “I can’t not say anything. Not anymore. I know you said you’re cool with it, but I don’t think you really are, and they deserve to know.”

“Cool with what exactly?” Murphy asks, a dip settling between his brows. 

Raven scoots her chair out from the table and goes to stand up but Emori shoots her a look. “Maybe now’s not the time to throw down.”

“I think it’s definitely the time,” she retorts. “What is your problem?”

  
“His problem?” O intervenes.

He filled her in on his and Clarke’s fear a couple of days ago. She didn’t take it well. In fact, if she had her way, they would’ve stormed into the warehouse immediately and threatened to go to the cops if they didn’t fess up. Bellamy managed to convince her to cool it, but only if he agreed to talk to them. 

“Yeah,” Raven says, voice threatening to spill over into rage. “His problem with people like Miller and Bryan and Murphy.”

“People like them,” O sneers before he can stop her, “have fucked with Clarke in ways you can’t even imagine. You think we haven’t noticed the three of you slinking off to do it? You’re not nearly as slick as you think you are.”

“Octavia!” Clarke exclaims, her eyes burning. “You have no right telling them about any of that.”

O deflates a little but holds her ground. “I’m sorry, Clarke, but they have no idea how their actions are impacting you. I’m not just gonna sit here and let them disrespect you like this.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Jasper demands. Bellamy doesn’t know if he’s ever seen the kid get angry before, but he certainly is now. “How have people like them disrespected in  _ any way _ ? All they’re trying to do is survive.”

Octavia snorts. “You really don’t understand that.”

Emori jumps in, “Oh yeah?” She gets this scary smile on her face. “Wanna bet?”

“Don’t threaten her,” Clarke warns. 

Emori opens her mouth to speak, but it’s Murphy who says, “Wait, what the fuck is actually going on here?”

Raven gestures to Bellamy. “Clearly, they’re judging you guys, Murphy. They’re saying you don’t even have a right to exist.”

Murphy frowns at Raven. “I don’t think so.” He turns to Bellamy. “What are you pissed at us about? Be honest and concise goddamnit.”

He looks at Clarke who shakes her head and then O who nods. Fuck. It only takes him a moment to decide. “That you,” he looks at Bryan, still in the doorway of the kitchen. “And you two,” he nods toward Miller and Murphy. “Are drug dealers.”  _ Sorry, Clarke, _ he thinks. Then Bellamy crosses his arms over his chest. “So, you gonna deny it, or own up to it?”

There’s an awkward silence and he thinks they might try to say he’s crazy. But they don’t. 

Murphy cracks first. “Dude…” he trails off but doesn’t finish because he’s too busy laughing. 

Raven actually  _ cackles _ . “Drug...Dealers,” she gets out in between snorting giggles. 

Miller actually shakes with his own laughter. He looks at Bryan who is no longer petrified in the doorway but leaning on the wall to support himself as he also mocks Bellamy. 

“The fuck is going on?” Clarke demands. “Why are you all laughing? Bellamy just accused the three of you of being criminals. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

O looks at her and says, as if she should already know, “They’re obviously playing us.”

Jasper just gives her a look. “You three are adorable.”

“Take that back right now,” his sister seethes. “Or I will make sure they never find your body.”

Jasper wipes at his brow. “I’m sorry, it’s just too good. You guys are the most hilarious country people we’ve ever come across. You can’t fault us for having a good time while we’re at it.”

“What is too good?” Clarke’s tone is all business, no give in sight. She narrows her eyes at them all. “You tell us right now what’s so freakin’ funny.”

“We’re not drug dealers,” Miller says after taking several breaths. He swallows, looks over at Murphy, who shrugs. And then Bryan, who shakes his head and is still laughing a little. 

“Then explain all the leaving at random times and the pagers and—” Bellamy starts to go off, but Murphy holds up a hand.

“Calm down Drama Queen.” Bellamy throws him a glare, but Miller interrupts before anything else can develop. 

“We’re not drug dealers,” he repeats. 

Then, he turns serious and a million thoughts go through Bellamy’s head. If they aren’t dishing out drugs, then what the hell is their deal? He doesn’t know what to make of any of their expressions, as they wait for Miller to tell them. It doesn’t help. The thoughts come in rapid succession, one after the other. All he can think about is keeping Clarke and O safe from whatever they’re about to learn. Maybe it’s bad. Really bad. Worse than drugs. He knows this situation is too good to be true, he knows it. Good things like this don’t happen to people like them. They just don’t. In fact, usually, it’s the complete opposite. 

He doesn’t have to wait too long for an answer though. 

Miller continues with a weary look, “Bryan, Murphy, and I? We’re all HIV-positive. Now, can you let my boyfriend go take his AZT already? That shit is kind of important, you know, for him to not die.”

Octavia’s sneer is wiped off her face completely. She looks over at Bellamy, mouth open, pale. Just about as shocked as he’s ever seen her. And he knows exactly how she feels. Whatever he was been expecting from his new, he’s tentative to call them this now but nevertheless, friends, it isn’t this. 

“I…” he starts.

Clarke answers for him. “Of course,” her eyes go to Bryan, “we’re sorry, go ahead.”

Bryan bows a little, gives them a smirk, and then saunters off to the stairs. At least he doesn’t seem all that pissed at them. But Bellamy isn’t sure how the rest of them are going to react. Damn it. He really messed up. Not only for himself. For O and Clarke, too. The guys at The Dropship have been nothing but short of stellar to them, and this is how they repay them. It’s pathetic. 

“Oh stop looking at them like that,” Raven snaps. Murphy shoots her a look and she takes a breath. “What I mean is, you’re not gonna get it just by looking at ‘em. You get it—”

“I know,” Clarke replies. She swallows. “Thought Abby—my mom—had it for a couple of months. A while back. Testing back home is even more abysmal than it is here.”

“That’s rough,” Miller nods. “Sorry about that. It was tough for me, the not knowing. Honestly, it felt better once my results came back.”

Bellamy feels his eyes go a little wide, but he still can’t find any words. Instead, his sister does.

“You never told us that.” O frowns. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Clarke shrugs it off. “Because we didn’t know, and there was no use worrying you guys if I didn’t have to. She doesn’t have it so...No big deal.”

He knows O wants to press further, so he finally speaks up. “Leave it,” he tells her. 

She looks pissed about it, but she listens to him, for once. Leave it to finding out Clarke’s mom almost has HIV for her to actually do as he tells her. It’s so fucked, he can barely wrap his head around it. But he doesn’t want to make this moment all about Abby, and he knows Clarke feels the same. O’s already revealed more than what she’s probably comfortable with. The last thing he wants is for either one of them to add to it. 

Bellamy turns it back on the others, as much as he doesn’t want to put them on the spot, he knows he already has. 

“You didn’t trust us?” he asks, half already knowing the answer to that.

“Of course we didn’t,” Emori states as if it’s nothing. 

Miller shoots her a look. “The three of us don’t go around telling just anyone, you know? It’s not exactly drinks conversation.”

Bellamy admits that that’s certainly fair. O doesn’t buy it, of course. 

“Then why let us stay here? Why let us in every way but not this?” She shakes her head. “I just don’t get it.”

Murphy goes to retort, but Clarke goes for it instead. “You wouldn’t,” she bites at her lip, “There’s a judgment, no matter how good a person.” Her eyes find his own and then she looks away just as quickly. “Even if someone seems good, that doesn’t mean they’ll understand.” She huffs and looks down at her hands on the table. “Or even try.”

“Ring, ring, ring,” Bryan says from behind the strings of beads in the doorway. He moves through them. In what has become accustomed to Bellamy, his lips are a vibrant blue and he sticks his hands into the pockets of his well-tailored flowing skirt. “We have a winner,” he finishes as he takes a seat next to Miller. He touches his boyfriend’s arm for a second, but Miller nods and he returns it. Then he faces Bellamy. “Given where you’re from, and what little we know about you, can you really blame us for keeping at least some of our shit to ourselves?”

Bellamy knows Bryan’s right. It doesn’t make accepting it any easier, but it does make it so he can admit, “You’re right.” He ticks his jaw, looks at Clarke, and goes on, “We don’t know you all that well, and you had every right to not tell us.”

Some of the tension in the room eases and Raven even stops glaring at him. 

“But we don’t care about that kind of thing,” O says for the three of them. She continues, “I know it might seem like we’d be the type, but...Hell. The three of us grew up in a drug and booze-addled trailer park in Pennslyvania. You think we haven’t seen some messed up crap just because we aren’t from New York?” When none of them answer, she says, “We have, is all I’m saying. And as far as we’re concerned, that shit doesn’t matter. What does is how you handle it, and what you do to other people.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard his sister be so eloquent. Shit, he isn’t sure where the hell she got it from. Not their mom, though he loves her more than words. Certainly not her piece of shit of a dad, if you could even call him that. Bellamy likes to think he has an impact on her, but he knows even this comes from her, not him. Managing to maintain his composure, he doesn’t reveal how much her small speech effects him. He thinks it’s for the better. There will be time to tell her later. Some other time, when they haven’t accused their HIV-positive roommates of being drug dealers instead. 

“That okay?” he asks, finding himself not asking Miller, or Bryan, or Murphy. But Raven. She seems the decider, in this situation, at least. 

“Yeah,” she nods, “that’s okay.” She looks to the three others near her. “It okay with you guys? Or do we kick them to the curb?”

Miller rolls his eyes. “Don’t scare ‘em.”

Bryan smirks. “I’ve always had a thing for strays.”

Murphy shrugs. “They might’ve stolen my food, but what the hell, they’re not as bad as Finn.”

A collective shudder goes through the group.

O frowns. “Who the hell is Finn?”

Raven shakes her head. “You should hope you never find out.” She mutters under her breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear, “Cheating Yuppy.”

He decides to not press for further information about this Finn. If anyone else wants to discuss it, they will. He’s learned that this is the way of them the hard way. And he doesn’t want to risk fucking it all up. Again.

Harper and Monty walk in as they’re still sitting in the moment. 

“Who died?” Monty asks.

“If you guys killed another one of Jasper’s stray pigeons—” Harper starts.

“It was an accident! For the last fucking time…” Murphy grumbles.

Jasper sniffs. “And yet, me and the rest of the surviving pigeon alter egos of The Dropship don’t believe you.”

“They know,” Miller says. “So you guys don’t have to be so cagey now.”

Monty lets out a breath. 

“It was about time,” Harper says, hopping up on the counter. 

“So,” Monty claps his hands together. “Raise your hand if you wanna go see a gig and get absolutely plastered.”

Every single one of them raises their hand. 

Bellamy doesn’t think it’s gonna be that easy to move on and have a good night. But clearly, he’s underestimated his roommates. They don’t just have a good night. They have a great one. 

That night, Bellamy dances with Clarke. Spins her around as they slam into dozens of other sweaty bodies and brings her close to him. They stay that close for just a beat longer than he thinks they should, and when she steps away, she’s flushed. He can’t help but wonder if it’s only from the heat of the room. Or something else, too. And during a song so loud he can’t hear his own heartbeat, though he knows it’s going a mile a minute, he looks at her, singing along to the music, and thinks that things are going pretty freakin’ perfectly. 

* * *

Clarke’s on shift with Emori at the bar a week after the big reveal, and it’s the first time she’s even felt vaguely comfortable in her presence.

Honestly, things have been better than she could’ve ever imagined. Now that the rest of them know she and Bellamy and Octavia won’t judge Murphy or Miller and Bryan, it makes it all that much easier. They can be more open about their bad days and their good ones. For the first time, she really feels like she can trust them. Maybe because they now trust her in return.

It’s a foreign feeling, but a nice one, too. 

Emori’s over at the bar and Clarke’s waiting on a table of college-aged guys who clearly are from Columbia or NYU. They ooze money and have come here as some kind of experience, not because they actually want to live it. Not the way she does. Out of all the customers she has to deal with, this group is by far the worst. However, they’re also the dumbest. Hence, it gives her and Emori ample opportunity to screw with them. Emori doesn’t put any alcohol in their drinks all night, and yet they watch (and laugh themselves sick during their smoke break) as the group gets progressively ‘drunker’ throughout the evening.

It’s more fun than Clarke ever thought she could have while working. 

She’s just delved out a platter of greasy hot dogs to a couple of regulars when she notices the girl looking at her. More of a woman, she supposes. Clarke does her best to give her a nonchalant once-over. Whoever she is, she seems to be maybe a few years older than Clarke. Green eyes. Long brown hair pulled back in what looks like dozens of intricate braids. Her lips are upturned, just a bit, at something a bearded guy next to her is saying. 

Clarke doesn’t mean to catch her eye. But once she does, she feels herself flush. Though she doesn’t have any idea why she would. It happens without her permission, which is annoying, for any number of reasons. 

She goes over by the bar, hoping Emori will convince her it’s nothing. 

“That hot serious-looking chick is checking you out,” Emori says, and Clarke blinks rapidly at her. 

“What?” she stammers out. 

Emori smirks at her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice. I saw you two looking at one another.”

“That was nothing,” Clarke replies, too quickly, because Emori’s smirk widens. 

“Like I said, she’s checking you out.” Then she places two whiskey sours in front of her. “These are for the hot serious chick and her friend, by the way.”

Clarke swallows. “He could be a boyfriend.”

Emori snorts. “If he was her boyfriend, she wouldn’t be looking at you like  _ that _ , now would she?”   
  


“Whatever,” she grumbles and takes the drinks.

She’s cool with it, really, she is. She meant what she said about Bryan and Miller when they first moved in. But...Well, Clarke doesn’t come from a place where girls are allowed to look at other girls that way. Of course, that never stopped her thoughts. As much as it confuses her, she’s never been able to stop  _ thinking  _ about other girls like that. She’s never done anything, too scared of the consequences. But she’s thought about it enough that her heart slams into her chest as she walks the drinks over to the girl and the guy beside her. 

When she sets them down, the girl seems surprised. 

“We didn’t order these,” she says, her voice pristine. It gives away her wealth, but only to someone like Clarke, who knows the difference. 

Her clothes resemble the ones that Harper, Emori, Raven, sometimes Bryan, and now Clarke and Octavia wear. When she looks closer, she can tell they’re designer. Not thrift store finds, like her own. 

The girl is giving Clarke this smile that says far more than she’s ever even admitted to herself. It puts all her little fantasies to shame. Makes them seem like the dumb wishfulness of a teenager. Which, she guesses, she still is. It makes her pulse hammer and her breath catch a little. No girl has ever looked at her like this before. 

It takes a moment. But then, of course, it’s obvious, and it clicks. Emori must’ve sent her over here on purpose. In her head, she recites ways of killing the other painfully, slowly. She should’ve known she would pull something like this. While Clarke knows she would never admit it, the girl’s got a romantic bone in her body. Somewhere. 

“I’m sorry,” Clarke clears her throat, trying to get a hold of herself. “The bartender must’ve made a mistake, but,” she shrugs, “these can be on the house.”

“Thanks,” the guy nods. Then he turns to the girl. “I’ll be right back. Cigarette.” And he holds up a lighter, perhaps in a move that’s a little too flashy to be natural. 

Clarke frowns, but then the other demands her attention before she can think about it too much. 

“What’s your name?” she asks. 

“I’m Clarke,” she huffs out in reply. “Though I’m guessing my friend,” she inclines her head towards the bar, and Emori, “already told you that.”

Then the other girl actually holds her hand out for Clarke to shake. If Octavia was here, she’d spit in her hand first. Bellamy would roll his eyes and ask her what her favorite kind of music is, as a test. But they aren’t here, and she can’t think straight with this girl’s  _ everything  _ registering in her head. So, she shakes her hand. It’s cold. But it still sends a jolt through her. 

At the mention of Emori, the girl’s taken aback a little. For the first time, she seems a little jarred. As if she’s used to everything going exactly to her plan, and Clarke figuring out said plan didn’t factor into that. Clarke kind of likes it, she thinks. That, in the end,  _ she’s _ the one to surprise the other. 

“Maybe,” she replies, but Clarke knows she’s got her. 

“So,” Clarke says. “Why’d you wanna know my name so bad?”

The girl gives her an unimpressed look and Clarke swallows, hard. She expects her to say something she has no idea how to respond to. Something she never imagined she could have for herself. 

Instead though, she shrugs. “Emori mentioned you’re into art. Me too. She also mentioned you’re new here, and I was thinking...We could be friends.”

Clarke frowns. “You wanna be friends?”

Again, that unimpressed look. It makes Clarke’s throat get a little tighter this time around and she’s not even sure she can swallow if she wants to. “I’m putting together an art performance. Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. The lot on 13th street. You should come.”

“Maybe,” she decides to go with, which sounds much more cavalier in her head. 

The other girl smiles, and this time, it reaches her eyes. 

“I’m Lexa, by the way.” Clarke thinks of saying more, but before she can, Lexa’s friend has returned. He nods toward the door to the bar. “Sorry,” she says. “Gotta go. But really, come to the show. You’ll love it.”

A song plays overhead as Lexa gives Clarke one more look. It’s a song she knows pretty well, by now. 

_ I hate myself for loving you _

_ Can't break free from the things that you do _

_ I want to walk but I run back to you, that's why _

_ I hate myself for loving you _

It’s then that she just doesn’t think she’s in trouble, she’s sure of it. 

And then Lexa’s gone, leaving Clarke staring at the place where her  _ real  _ white leather jacket disappeared out the door. For a moment, she can’t think about what just happened. But once she does, it’s all she thinks about. 

Even when Emori teases her about it. Even when her shift ends. Even as she tries to fall asleep that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading ❤︎
> 
> find me on tumblr (@animmortalist)


	6. Love My Way, It's a New Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are at chapter six! this one takes place a couple of months later and deals with the development of Clarke and Bellamy's relationships with the new people they've met. this one explores some of their individual paths, but also still maintains the importance of their relationship. 
> 
> love you all and sending good thoughts right now. 
> 
> *chapter title from 'Love My Way' by the Psychedelic Furs*
> 
> *slight tw for mention of animal death*

It’s New Years’ Eve, the official end of 1988, and Lexa has invited the entire group from The Dropship to the annual party she has at her place. 

Bellamy doesn’t really want to go, but in the end, he doesn’t seem to have a choice. Everyone else agrees, and he’d be a dick not to go. And also, it’s not as if he’s going to spend New Years’ Eve alone like a sad asshole. 

Lexa’s fine he guesses. But he’s only met her once, and from that meeting, doesn’t understand why Clarke’s been spending so much time with her. Since they met in the Fall, Clarke hangs out with her at least twice a week. Bellamy doesn’t get it. Lexa’s the kind of kid that would throw eggs at them from their Range Rovers as they drove by. Well, maybe not that harsh. But certainly, not the type he thought they were friends with. 

It’s not only her obvious wealth either, though that’s definitely a big part of it. 

Before they get ready to leave, he’s strumming out a few chords on the second-hand guitar Clarke gave to him for the most recent Christmas. They’re awkward and muddled. His fingers unsure. He doesn’t know how to play yet. He’s doing his best though. Because as much as he’s always maintained he’s never had an interest in actually creating music, it’s been a lie to cover up the fact he knew he’d never be able to afford a guitar. Until Clarke changed that. 

When he sees the present under the spindly, Charlie Brown Christmas Tree (with a Menorah on one of the windowsills nearby for Jasper and Murphy since it happened to fall around the same time that year) he doesn’t know what the weird shape could be. But it’s wrapped like shit. The group dishes out the presents with as much organization as they eat dinner. A mess and a half. 

When Murphy half-flings the big, heavy object at Bellamy, he goes after him. They tussle around the room like kids (which he finds himself doing more and more the longer he spends at The Dropship), knocking into shit, crashing to the floor only to get back up. Until Emori tells them to cool it or she’ll cancel the holidays. 

“He started it,” Bellamy says as they settle back down.

Clarke snorts at that. “Of course, he did.” 

He rolls his eyes, smirking at her. She shoves at his shoulder, and they go on like that for a couple of minutes. Then Jasper coughs to cover up a laugh and Murphy looks over at Emori, who tries to hide a laugh in her scarf. They can’t afford much heat, so they’re all bundled up in whatever warm clothes they have. Bellamy ignores them. He turns his attention back to the present that looks like it might’ve been run over by a car. Not that any of the others look like they’re wrapped with much more care.

He tears it open unceremoniously, getting a vague idea of what it could be as he does, but not actually believing it until he opens the case.

“Holy shit,” Murphy says, turning to Clarke. “Griffin, you sell a kidney?”

She goes a bit pink and shakes her head. “It’s nothing.” Clearly, she’s trying to make it less of a big deal than it is. 

For a while, he’s too in awe of the present to say much more than “thank you” and “this is incredible”. The group moves on, all of them ripping into each other’s presents with as much care as a bulldozer. 

He keeps staring down at the guitar, almost afraid to touch it. Like he’ll wreck it the minute he does. Finally, when he does feel the wooden frame, he hears Harper laugh. 

“Bellamy, you wanna be alone with that thing?”

He glares at her. “Not more than you wanna be alone with Monty.”

That shuts her up. Monty shoots her look, stark surprise there. But she rolls her eyes and the tension breaks apart before it can even really build. The rest of them pretend they don’t see it. 

He doesn’t know how Clarke could even afford the guitar, but he doesn’t ask. With money tight and the bar paying shit, he’s learned to not question how they afford rent and somehow also keep themselves fed. He hasn’t shared that he’s taken to stealing bottles from the bar, and no one’s ever demanded to know how they keep the booze flowing. They all have ways of staying alive that best go unmentioned. 

Bryan and Miller are inexplicably missing. Out probably doing couple shit or something, he isn’t sure. Maybe something for Aquamarine’s holiday performance, which is annually on Christmas night. They’re all going, of course. Not like any of them have anywhere else to go. 

Bellamy ended up sending Aurora a card with a long letter about what his life was like, leaving out the copious amounts of booze and drugs and petty crimes. O picks out a necklace they think she might actually wear from a street vendor. It isn’t much. He knows it will make her smile, all the same. 

Clarke comes over by him, wearing the crown made out of some kind of metal that Emori made for her. Complete with glitter and rhinestones, which he knows she stole from the crafts shop on Avenue A. 

“So you like it?” She looks at the guitar and then back up at him. There’s a hint of nervousness to her voice. One he doesn’t know why is even there. 

He grins. “Are you kidding? Harper’s right, I think I’d like to be alone with it."

Laughing, she bites her lip. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”

“You really didn’t have to, I don’t even know how to play,” he says. Which he knows doesn’t make sense. It’s not as if he’s giving it back. But somehow, he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t deserve it. If he looks closer, he knows the feeling is that he actually doesn’t deserve Clarke. 

Scoffing, she touches his arm, it feels warm even though he knows they’re all running cold due to it being below freezing out. “You’ll learn. I know you will. And then you’ll write a famous song and leave us all behind.”

“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” he asks. “At best, I write one crappy song, and Miller makes fun of me.”

Considering it, she smiles. “Maybe, but I think I’m right.”

He allows it, only because, yeah, she usually is. 

“I won’t leave you guys behind though. That part’s all bullshit.” Bellamy’s aware that what he wants to say is he won’t leave her behind, but he knows that’s too much. Isn’t even totally sure where the impulse comes from. It catches him off guard, so he almost misses her response. 

“Really?” She raises her brows. “Don’t we weigh you down?”  
  


And he senses that maybe she’s asking him if _she_ weighs him down. Which is...Madness, really. Doesn’t she get that without her he would still be stuck in that trailer park? Wasting his life away, and never truly living. He knows her mom messed with her head, maybe even more than the physical stuff. Well, if she needs confirmation on this, he knows he can give her at least that. 

“Along with O, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he tells her. 

By the look on her face, he worries it’s too much and not enough all at the same time.

“I am?” She doesn’t look all that worried though. Maybe a look he doesn’t remember ever receiving from her. He doesn’t think it’s bad though. 

He nods. “Of course, you are.”

Then Miller and Bryan come sweeping into the room, and the moment shatters. It’s almost as if it was all his imagination. 

Bryan’s wearing a Santa coat cinched at the waist with a belt and leather pants. Miller’s in ripped up jeans and a black sweater. They’re a hilarious pair. 

“We come bearing gifts on this holiest of days!” Bryan exclaims. 

Then he notices they’re bearing bags. Of food. Fancy cheeses and cured meats and bread that they could never afford. Everyone digs in. They’ve even brought some Christmas crackers, which Monty and Jasper begin popping open before Bellamy can even get a word in. 

Most shockingly of all though, is the wad of cash Bryan pulls out of his pocket and waves at all of them. 

“We’re rich!” Miller smirks. He pulls Bryan close to him by the waist. “Ladies and Gentlemen and everyone who prescribes as neither, please thank our benefactor on this holiday!”

There’s a lot of disbelief and surprise and then grins and joy once it registers that everything Miller and Bryan have produced is _real_. 

“Well, I had a benefactor too,” Bryan cuts in. “I earned this and our fine feast out in the bitter cold of our beloved city.”

“Wait.” Clarke shakes her head. “You earned this on the street?”

“How in the hell…” Emori starts.

Miller cracks up. “You gotta hear it from Bryan,” and Bellamy knows this is gonna be good. Bryan’s nothing without his dramatics though and takes his time telling all of them. 

“Well, we were walking back from Life Support.” 

Of course, he realizes. Murphy doesn’t go to the support group for people with HIV and AIDS, but Miller and Bryan do. They explained they have different reasons, but it comes down to a sense of community. That they’re not alone. Murphy calls it horseshit. 

“And this limo pulls up,” Bryan continues. He grins at Miller. “You wanted to take off running.”

“I don’t trust fancy cars,” Miller defends. “Those tinted windows are sinister.”

“Perhaps,” Bryan allows. Then he looks at all of them. “But this one wasn’t.”

“Well…” Miller trails off. “I don’t know if the request that Mrs. Old Lady had can exactly be described as pure of heart.”

“Are you telling this story?” Bryan tilts his head to the side, Miller simply gestures for him to continue. 

“As I was saying,” Bryan goes on grinning as he accounts how they managed to get so lucky. “This limo pulls up, and I have the giant pickle bucket with us, the one I used for street performances before Aquamarine took off.” Emori hoists said pickle bucket, now filled with food, in the air and everyone salutes it. 

“And my drumsticks, too. I mean,” he looks at Miller, “the _odds_. Truly,” he turns back to the rest of them. “We are blessed.”

“What’d you do for the money?” Raven gets out around a mouthful of bread and cheese. 

Bryan clears his throat. “I played on the pickle bucket to help her get some peace of mind. Well, and some sleep.”

Jasper frowns. “How?”

Miller laughs into his scarf. Bryan gives him a look. “It’s all you, baby.” 

He nods, seemingly satisfied, and says, “Apparently there was this dog in her neighbor’s place.”

“Oh god,” Harper murmurs. 

Bellamy frowns and then his eyes widen when he starts to put it together. O bursts out laughing and he shoots her glare, which she definitely ignores, continuing on. 

“Oh come on,” she says and gestures to Bryan. “I bet it’s funny. Is it funny?”

Miller nods. “It’s fucking hilarious.”

“This was a demon dog,” Bryan explains, gesturing with his hands. “It apparently barked twenty-four hours a day. It attacked poor Mrs. Old Lady in the Limo! She hadn’t slept in over a year! And as if that wasn’t enough? The poor thing’s name was Evita. Who names their dog that?” Bryan doesn’t wait for a response. “Assholes, that’s who. And all I did was play my drumsticks on the pickle bucket.” 

He shakes his head. “That dog, when it went off like Thelma and Louise,” he lets out a dramatic breath, “she chose.”

“The dog...Committed suicide…Because of your playing?” Monty repeats, slowly. 

Bryan waves a hand. “If you’re all gonna act like this then I will take my gifts back.”

“Hell no,” Jasper said, gesturing with a bit of salami. “We couldn’t be more thrilled that you killed some rich asshole’s dog.”

Bryan settles down on one of the half-falling apart chairs in the room, crossing his legs. He gestures to the food. “Very well. Enjoy.”

For a minute, the room’s a little silent. But then, he feels Clarke shaking beside him. He looks at her, full of concern, only to find that she’s laughing so hard she has to take a huge breath before she can speak.

“I’m sorry,” she says to the rest of them. “Really, I,” but then she starts laughing again.

This time, Bellamy can’t help it, he starts laughing too.

“Evita...She went off the balcony...Like in the musical,” Emori gets out in between sucking in air after bursting out laughing. 

They’re all a mess after that, cracking jokes at that poor deceased dog’s expense. Bellamy knows they’re terrible people, truly, he does. But he’s having such a good time. So much that he can’t seem to care. 

He’s brought out of the memory by Clarke, who’s standing in what can only be described as his ‘corner’ of the warehouse. There are very few actual rooms. Just metal doors that drop down to distinct one space from the other, and even then, they don’t use them much. 

“Ready?” she asks. 

There’s something about her tonight, something different. Like she can’t contain her excitement. Though he knows it’s in part for Lexa’s party, and Lexa herself, even that can’t kill the moment. It makes him grin, to see her this happy. More than she ever was back in Arkadia Springs. 

“Let’s do it,” he replies and she smiles easier than she has in her whole life. 

But when they do walk into the party, Bellamy immediately knows they don’t belong.

Murphy doesn’t seem bothered though. He looks over at Emori and grins. Bellamy doesn’t know what’s going on there, but like with the money, (and Harper and Monty) he’s learned not to ask. 

Then Murphy rubs his hands together and says, “Let’s fuck up this rich kids’ party.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t fuck it up completely,” Clarke argues, a hint of wariness in her voice that makes Bellamy feel weird. Mostly because he’s pretty sure she doesn’t care about the party getting messed up, but what Lexa will think of her if she’s the one to do it. And by extension, her friends.

“Why?” Emori asks, her tone teasing. 

Bellamy doesn’t get it, at first. But then the rest of them join in. 

“Worried _Lexa_ won’t let you kiss her at midnight if we do?” Jasper taunts.

Harper knocks him on the back of his head. Bellamy’s never felt more confused in his life. Why would Clarke want Lexa to kiss her?

“We’re not like that,” Clarke says. She chews down on her lip and he thinks he imagines it, but he swears she looks at him for a second before she goes on, “She’s my friend. That’s it.”

Bellamy can’t help but be relieved at that. It stuns him though, once the feeling registers. He doesn’t have a problem with anyone because of who they wanna be with or even just fuck. It’s not that. He’s pretty sure if Lexa were a guy, he’d feel the same. That’s what throws him off. He isn’t supposed to be bothered by Clarke liking someone, and them maybe liking her back. If anything, he should want to tease her right along with the others. But he doesn’t, not the slightest bit. He wants it to not be true, for her and Lexa to really be only friends. 

“Sure she is,” Raven muses, picking up a lock of Clarke’s hair and playing with it. 

“Cool it,” O tells them, and while it’s hard to pick up, Bellamy knows there’s a bit of a threat to her words. “If she says they’re friends then they’re friends.”

O gives him a pointed look so Bellamy tries to recover the moment and makes a joke at Monty and Jasper’s expense. 

Everyone laughs. Bryan the loudest, though he’s not entirely sure the joke warrants it. He likes that about Bryan, how easily he reads people. Somehow, he knows it’s important to laugh, and for the others too as well, so he makes sure they do. Bellamy’s filled with fondest for the other. For all of them, despite their teasing. Grateful that while this family he and O and Clarke found isn’t perfect or whole, it’s one hell of a support system.

They’re still laughing when he notices Clarke’s eyes scanning the crowd. He knows she’s looking for Lexa, which is only understandable. They’re friends. Like she said. And she did invite them all. It gives him a weird feeling though. One he isn’t sure how to deal with. Like he’s...Upset? He isn’t sure. But he knows he never felt this way about Clarke having any other friends or even the few guys she’s dated or fooled around with. 

Bellamy’s pulled out of the thought by Lexa herself appearing. She walks over to them as if on a runway. Her designer boots hitting the hardwood floors of the luxurious loft. She’s wearing a long dress, going down to her calves. Plus about ten necklaces and so much eyeliner he wonders how she can see with all of it. 

“Clarke,” she greets, dismissing the rest of them with a slight tilt of her head. He’s reminded that Lexa doesn’t really like them. It was hard to pick up during the one time they all hung out, but he can tell it for certain now. 

Clarke doesn’t seem to see it. She grins as Lexa kisses her on both cheeks. Like she’s fucking French or something, which she isn’t. He wants to like Lexa, really he does. From all accounts from Clarke, she’s a big philanthropist of the arts and listens to his kind of music and has amazing friends to whom she’s undyingly loyal to. But for some reason, he can’t help but wanna bail from this party before they’ve been there for more than a couple of minutes. 

“Glad you could make it.” This, Lexa says to all of them.

They give a smattering of half-hearted responses. Bellamy knows that while most of them would never admit it, they might feel similarly to him about her. He finds himself hoping for it, actually. Any explanation for how he’s feeling right now. 

“Of course,” Clarke replies. She smirks. “I had to cancel my appearance on TV with Dick Clarke, but he understood.”

It’s then that Bellamy realizes Clarke’s _flirting_ with Lexa. His annoyance turns to discomfort. He catches O’s eye and she smiles softly before nudging him, trying to comfort him. It doesn’t work.

Lexa’s lip quirk up. “Well, I’m glad he did.” She takes Clarke by the hand. “Come on, there are so many people I want to introduce you to.”

Clarke looks fleetingly at the rest of them. “I don’t—”

“Go ahead,” Murphy tells her. Then he winks.

Clarke flushes a bit but only says, “Alright, I’ll see you guys around okay?”

“Of course.” Raven looks around. “We can fend for ourselves.”

Clarke seems as if she’s hesitating but relents and allows Lexa to take her into the crowd. Weaving through it like Lexa knows no one will even dare to bump into them. Like she knows they can’t be touched, as if they’re something more than the rest of them. Maybe they are.

“Come on,” Murphy nods towards the bar in the left of the room. “Let’s get trashed.”

Bellamy knows he agrees all too quickly, but he’s grateful for the offer. Emori, Raven, and Jasper take off. To do who knows what. Harper and Monty tell them they’re gonna go try to make fun of rich people, but he goes back to thinking about the surprise on Monty’s face when Bellamy made that joke on Christmas. Miller, Bryan, and Octavia claim they’re gonna look around the house and maybe steal some stuff. But he has a suspicion for half of them, they’re really off to do some lines. 

When he and Clarke first put it together, he’d been such a judgemental dick. Now, he can’t judge. Not when he’s gotten high with them about a dozen times. Clarke’s never participated, but O has, which he almost didn’t speak to her for three days over. Not until Clarke talked him down, and he accepted she’s eighteen now and is going to do what she wants. 

He asked Clarke before the first time if she was okay with it, and she told him while she wasn’t gonna do it for her own reasons, she didn’t care if he and O did. As much as Bellamy doesn’t want to admit it, he loves the highs. The way he feels undefeatable and the past falls away. All that exists is the present. It makes the comedown worth it. 

Murphy pours them generous drinks. Two vodka sodas. Light on the soda. 

“Fuck Lexa,” he says and clinks his glass against Bellamy’s. 

Bellamy frowns. “Why?”

Murphy shakes his head. “Just say it. It will make you feel better, trust me.”

He hesitates, but repeats the other’s words and drains his glass. He has to admit, it does feel good. But _why_ does it? Though it’s right there in front of him, he can’t wrap his head around it. 

“I like her,” Bellamy lies.

Murphy raises his brows and claps him on the shoulder. “You don’t have to say that for my benefit. I couldn’t give less of a shit.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bellamy argues. “I like her, I do.”

“Perfect.” Murphy grins. “Now, if you say it five-hundred more times, it might actually sound convincing, and not as if it physically pains you.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, you don’t get it.”

Murphy scoffs. “Of course, I do.” 

Though Bellamy knows he isn’t supposed to comment on it, he sees how Murphy’s eyes drift to where Emori is in some guy’s lap who has pants clipped together with about a hundred safety pins. He grimaces a bit. Yeah, Bellamy definitely shouldn’t say anything about that. Instead, he pours them more drinks. These even stronger than the first ones. 

“Why don’t I like her though?” Bellamy asks, and Murphy’s eyes tear away from Emori. 

Murphy’s jaw ticks. “I don’t know, dude.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Yes, you do.”

He shrugs. “Look, it’s not my business to be telling you something you might not be ready to deal with. Besides,” he shoves him lightly. “It’s not like you can do anything about it. Clarke’s into Lexa, in case you missed that, too.”

Bellamy grumbles out, “No, I got that. Eventually.” He rubs a hand over his face. “Seriously, the hell is wrong with me? I shouldn’t care what she’s doing with her, except maybe to make fun of her for it. So, why do I?”

Before Murphy can reply, the music gets louder. It’s his kind of stuff, which sort of annoys him. Like it’s a personal offense that he and Lexa have anything in common. Then he spots Lexa and Clarke. Lexa’s whispering something in Clarke’s ear, she’s grinning. Then Lexa sweeps an arm around her waist. Only briefly, before she releases her. It’s enough though. He swallows thickly. It hits him all at once, and while it does, an old song he hasn’t heard in years starts up. It’s a little too on the nose for the moment, and he curses himself for being such an idiot. 

_On the floors of Tokyo_

_A-down in London town's a go go_

_A-with the record selection,_

_And the mirror's reflection,_

_I'm a dancin' with myself_

_A-when there's no one else in sight,_

_A-in crowded lonely night_

_Well, I wait so long for my love vibration_

_And I'm dancing with myself_

He cares, he realizes, not because Lexa’s rich or snobby or a poser. Not because she looks down on their lifestyle while living some phony, high-class version of it. But rather, because she can touch Clarke like that. Because Clarke wants her to touch her. He knows that now. He hates it, this feeling. Jealousy. He’s jealous of Lexa. And not only due to the fact that she’s now clearly got someone amazing. He’s jealous because he wants that. With Clarke. He wants Clarke like Lexa has her now. 

Bellamy wants Clarke. 

“Fuck,” he spits out and finishes his drink, though he has barely taken a sip from this new one.

Murphy laughs, damn him. “Ah,” he says around a smirk. “You figured it out, didn’t you?”

“You’re a piece of shit,” Bellamy shoots back. 

Murphy raises his palms. Then he sips at his drink, considering his words. He drains the glass before replying, “You’re right. Doesn’t make you loving her any less true.”

“Woah,” Bellamy backpedals. “I might want her, but I don’t _love_ her.” He coughs. “Not like that, at least.”

“Okay,” Murphy tells him, but Bellamy knows he doesn’t believe him. Not in the slightest. It would piss him off if he didn’t know that’s just how Murphy is. He’s used to it by now. That doesn’t mean he can’t be a dick right back though. 

He opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, everyone’s attention is pulled to the entrance of the loft. 

“HELLO, MOTHERFUCKERS!” comes from the entrance. 

For a moment, Bellamy can’t see who it is that’s greeted them all in such a way. The music lowers and people are captivated by whoever it is. Then he sees her. She’s tall, in ripped black tights and high-waisted leather shorts. A shirt that looks more like a bra and a fur coat that’s definitely seen better days. 

She hoists up a huge metal sign that reads something about a new building going in. Bellamy’s heard of it. His friends ranting about it and Finn Collins nonstop since the announcement was made that some woman named Nia and her husband were going to be demolishing a tent city and building condos for yuppies in their stead. 

“Guess who organized the destruction of those horrid blockades in front of the tent city on ninth?” she shouts. 

The crowd cheers, raising their glasses. 

“That’s right! Finn Collins can kiss our asses!” And then she slaps her own. 

Murphy grins. 

“Holy shit,” he says. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell us she was coming home.”

Before Bellamy can ask who she is, she’s launching herself at Murphy. She kisses him sloppily on the cheek and pulls away, hands on his shoulders.

“Aw, cockroach. How I’ve missed your little jokes.”

He shakes his head. “Oh, Echo. I think we’ve missed your everything.”

She snorts. “Of course, you have.” She flips her hair. “Paris was breath-taking, but really, all I could think about was how the hell you survived without me.” 

She seems to notice Bellamy for the first time a moment later. Echo bites her lip as she flicks her eyes up and down. “And who might this be? Because we definitely haven’t met before, I would remember.”

Bellamy feels a bit self-conscious, given that he’s not sure anyone’s ever so blatantly checked him out before. He manages to return her look with one of his own. Murphy coughs but says nothing. 

“Bellamy,” he says, sipping from a fresh drink. 

She grins. “I’m Echo. I think Emori mentioned the three new roommates at our humble abode, but she didn’t mention how gorgeous you were, of course.”

He remembers vaguely his roommates mentioning an Echo, but they definitely didn’t say anything about her looks. Or her tenacity. Or her apparent penchant for flirting without abandon. Bellamy’s sure he would’ve remembered those details. 

“Yeah, well, gotta keep me a secret, or else they’d never have peace. The whole city’d be at our door.”

She scoffs but is smirking. “I bet. So, Bellamy, what’s your story?”

His eyes find Clarke for a second. She and Lexa are across the room, but they might as well be alone in an empty space. Lexa’s playing with Clarke’s hair and she’s laughing. He’s filled with dread and longing, so he turns back to Echo. 

“No story. Just another asshole in this trash heap.”

Echo laughs. “I bet that’s not true, but I’ll let it go.” She tilts her head. “For now.”

They keep talking, Murphy interjecting every now and then. Echo’s looks and words progress into touches. Bellamy’s sure of it. She’s into him. And really, he thinks he might be into her too. 

Suddenly, just as he’s about to hint that maybe him and Echo should go look around the house (as an excuse to maybe get some—and get his mind off Clarke), Raven’s there, wide-eyed and grinning.

“Echo, hey baby,” she says. 

“Pookie!” Echo exclaims, pulling Raven in close. 

While Raven looks like she might push her away for a second, she relaxes, letting Echo kiss her fully on the mouth. It’s a deep kiss, lasting longer than most people would deem socially acceptable. Murphy jeers at them from beside Bellamy, who’s a little bit in shock. Minutes ago, the two of them had been flirting, and now, she’s making out with one of his roommates. It’s a little bit jarring, to say the least. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting back from Paris tonight?” Raven asks when they break apart. 

Echo waves her off. “I was supposed to be there for another week, but I _felt_ I had to come back to our depraved little town. It was a last-minute decision.” She turns to Bellamy. “Why didn’t _you_ tell me about our lovely new additions.”

Her tone is dripping with heat, and Bellamy’s surprised she’s keeping it up in front of Raven, who stiffens at her words. And their implication.

“Down, Echo,” Murphy chides, looking a little worried at Raven.

Oh, he thinks, _this_ is an ongoing thing between the two of them. 

Echo shrugs. “Sorry, Pookie,” she pouts at Raven.

To her credit, Raven softens and nods. “No worries.” She loops a finger through Echo’s belt loop and kisses her, once, quickly, this time. 

He can tell there are some worries there, though. Maybe more than some. 

Bellamy feels a little bit used, really, but as he and Murphy and Echo and Raven talk, he lets it go. He realizes it’s just who Echo is, and he can’t fault her for that. Not when it’s a mix between entertaining and hilarious. Though he can tell Raven’s less than enthused by her behavior. And the way Echo touches Bellamy’s arm when she laughs at his sarcastic descriptions of the entire group. 

Midnight comes closer, and Bellamy figures he’s gonna be one of the saddest saps around, given that there seems to be someone for everyone else to kiss (or do more with) around him. 

But when the count down starts, Murphy smirks at him, and Bellamy’s surprised by the promise the look holds. Before he can even think through what’s happening, Murphy pulls him in by his waist. He lays one on him, his lips on his. 

Part of him knows what’s really going on, but he thinks for a second that it’s nothing more than a friendly kiss. The kind you exchange with friends drunkenly. But when Murphy pulls away, Bellamy knows that’s not it. He’s never kissed a guy before, he thinks, almost as a second thought, before the idea of wanting to do it again takes root. 

He can only look at Murphy for a bit. There are shouts of joy around him and he knows people are already planning the next hit of their drug of choice or to break out more booze. Bellamy swallows. Then he grabs Murphy by the shoulder and kisses him again, firmer this time. Because he knows what he’s doing now. 

They find their way into an empty room as fast as they possibly can. 

Murphy’s got Bellamy’s shirt fisted his hand, and Bellamy’s keeping him close with a firm hand of his own on the back of his neck. Thank god, he thinks as Murphy slams him against the closed door. They found a room with a bed. He isn’t sure how the hell he got from never kissing a guy to thinking _that_ in the span of minutes, but he doesn’t think about it too much. Not when Murphy groans against his mouth and Bellamy uses his other hand to go up his shirt, exploring the planes of his chest. 

“I’ve never done this before,” he confesses as Murphy sucks at his neck. Half of him hates himself for saying it, but he knows he can’t not say it. Not when he’s sure of what’s going to happen in that room. 

Murphy pulls away and grins. “No shit.”

Then he pulls Bellamy hard against his own frame. He backs them up against the bed, and they stumble their way onto it. Laughing in between kissing. Murphy’s bunching up Bellamy’s shirt to take it off at the same time his hand goes to Murphy’s groin.

Their frantic movements break apart in seconds though. Shouts of not glee, but anger and terror rip through the blurred and hurried moment. 

“Cops!” someone shouts and Murphy and Bellamy break apart in full. 

Then, chaos.

Murphy curses and grabs Bellamy by the arm, pulling both of them up from the bed. He doesn’t have time to think as they run through the loft. 

They launch themselves down the fire escape. 

“What about Clarke?” Bellamy demands, fear for her evident in his tone even though he and Murphy were careening their way towards sex minutes ago. He realizes he should be thinking about the others, too. Fear for his sister strikes him hard, makes him sick. A similar feeling comes for the rest of his roommates seconds later. “What about _everyone_?” 

Murphy doesn’t pause, he just keeps running down the street. Bellamy has no choice but to follow. 

He tells him, almost out of breath, “Clarke will be fine. Lexa knows where to meet up in case of this kind of thing. They all do. But you’ve gotta run faster or we’re fucked.” 

Bellamy picks up the pace and can only hope Murphy’s right, that Clarke will be okay. It’s all he thinks about as they continue to run as fast they can down the street.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading ❤︎
> 
> find me on tumblr (@animmortalist)


	7. There's Only Us Left Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey lovelies!! here's chapter seven coming at ya. this one and chapter six were originally going to be one chapter, but I decided to split them for length and pacing purposes. hopefully, it works out. 
> 
> this one follows the direct aftermath of the previous chapter and includes a lot of new developments for our delinquents as well as a realization for Clarke. 
> 
> *slight tw for mention of animal death but it's less than the previous chapter*
> 
> *chapter title is from 'Celebrity Skin' by Hole*
> 
> sending love to all of you. take care of yourself and each other. 💖💜💙

Lexa’s hand is still in Clarke’s as they race down the street following the breakup of the party. Her mind is still whirling. At midnight, they were having their first kiss, but it all went to hell so fast she barely had time to register it. Lexa explains that _someone_ must’ve heard about Echo trashing the blockades at the tent city between ninth and tenth. Her tone makes Clarke think that she knows who that someone is. 

They careen towards a cafe Lexa says everyone knows to meet up in case of trouble. Once there, Lexa brushes some of the snow out of Clarke’s hair.

“You okay?” Clarke asks. “That was—”

Lexa waves it off. “I _wish_ it actually had an impact.”

Clarke only nods, not wanting to reveal her own fears to her. Not when she wants to impress her. To show she belongs in the city. 

So she turns to Bellamy, who’s just arrived with Murphy, out of breath. He’s got a bruise developing under his left eye. Murphy’s holding his left arm weird. Bryan’s got a split lip. The rest of them seem relatively unscathed, luckily. Maybe a couple of scrapes, but eventually, they’re all back together again. 

She lets out a breath and hugs Bellamy, quickly, just while Lexa’s checking in with Raven and Echo and her friend Gus. He returns it as she nuzzles into his shoulder but releases her when she pulls away.

“I’m fine, Clarke,” he tells her when her eyes go to the bruise. 

She insists she check him over though, and only leaves him alone when Bryan winces in pain. She goes over to him, concern probably etched all over her features.

“Nothing a little lipstick and foundation can’t cover-up,” he brushes off as she goes to examine him closer.

Her face must give her away because he laughs and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m serious, okay? Just fine.”

Though worry fills her mind, for all of her friends, she decides to let it go. For now. After all, they’re hungry and starving. More than usual. They pack into the cafe. Bryan and Raven spot some people they recognize and they pull all the tables together into one long one. Much to the protest of the host. 

“Can you dirty fuckers not?” he demands.

“Sorry,” Harper shrugs. “I’m afraid us _dirty fuckers_ must.”

Monty grins and she returns it. Clarke wonders if she wasn’t the only one that got together with someone at Lexa’s party. Across the room, there’s a table with four men in suits. Three older, one probably in his early twenties. Clarke doesn’t recognize them, but she wonders what the hell they’re doing in Alphabet City. They seem the type who are buying up the neighborhood, pushing out people like Clarke’s friends and the homeless. 

Everyone else seems to recognize the young guy though, exchanging loaded glances. None of them acknowledge them though. Well, not at first. They get a round of beer and wine, and when the fresh taste of alcohol sets it, so does a lack of inhibitions. Not that any of them have much of those to begin with.

“Finn Collins III,” Echo croons, smirking. 

She stands up and leans against the edge of the last table. Raven sucks at her teeth and shoots her a look, which Echo dismisses. Raven seems like she wants to say something but ultimately doesn’t speak up.

The guy Echo called Finn looks over from the corner table. 

“Hello, Echo. Quite a stunt you pulled tonight,” he replies, tone aloof. 

Clarke is already filled with dislike for him. Not only because from the few stories the members of The Dropship have shared, she knows he’s a complete tool. But she feels like she can smell something on him that makes her flick her eyes up and down with disdain. 

“You used to like my stunts,” Echo says coolly. “And really, you had to call the pigs on me? At a party no less?” She tsks her tongue. “How the previously equally criminal have fallen.”

Finn scoffs and apologizes to the men in suits beside him. “Excuse these,” he pauses and shoots them a glare, “people. They’re insistent their way of life isn’t completely dead.”

“Our way of life?” Jasper grins. “How fast a fancy marriage to some rich bitch can erase one’s entire past.”

“For the last time—” Finn starts.

Miller holds up a hand. “Please. Spare us the details of defending Ontari. We didn’t like her before you two got together, and nothing will change that. Not when her father insists on buying the city and kicking out the homeless who are just trying to survive in it.”

“I was going to say,” Finn goes on as if Miller hadn’t spoken. “That you should be a bit more considerate of her, especially right now.”

“And why is that?” Raven challenges, her tone clipped. 

“Because,” Finn replies, solemn. “There was a death in the family.”

Clarke and Bellamy look at one another. In the end, he shrugs and goes for it. 

“Who died?” he asks. 

Finn sighs, shaking his head. He takes a moment before he tells them, “Our Akita. It seems she fell off the balcony.”

Clarke’s jaw drops and she turns to Bryan, whose eye’s have gone wide and is staring at his wine in horror. She looks over at Bellamy, and he’s smirking. She can’t help it, she stifles a laugh into her hands. 

Then Bellamy and Murphy face one another. “Evita!” they both get out at the same time. 

It dawns on the rest of them at the table, most of them having heard the story even if they don’t live at The Dropship. There are giggles and grins all around. Except for Bryan, who just looks vaguely ill. Miller pats him on the shoulder affectionately. 

“Way to mock us when we’re hurting.” Finn shakes his head. “You really know how to express your sympathies.” He shakes a finger at them. “This is your problem, you know? You don’t know the first thing about people who aren’t insistent on living your _lifestyle_ and you don’t care to learn, either.”

“Why would we want to bother with people like yourself?” Echo proposed. “It’s not as if we can describe the way you go about things as actually living.”

Finn goes to retort, which Clarke would love to see how they take him down a peg next, but then Octavia bursts out of the seat beside her. 

“Lincoln!” she shouts. “You made it!” 

She’s bounding towards him and nearly tackles him, not that he looks as if he budges an inch from the entrance of the café. 

“Yeah, well, it took me a while to track you lot down.” He grins easily. “It turns out you guys aren’t only degenerates. You’re also criminals.”

There’s a smattering of cheers of agreement to that statement. Echo and Miller clink glasses.

Octavia shrugs. “But like, really hot criminals.” She gives him a bright smile, too. 

Lincoln, to his credit, just laughs. Clarke pulls up one of the last remaining chairs so he can sit beside Octavia at the table. 

Bellamy rolls his eyes dramatically at Clarke from across the table. She stifles a smile before quirking up an eyebrow, a silent question. He doesn’t look upset, though. Not nearly as much as he has whenever Lincoln’s come up over the last couple of months. So, she lets it go. For now. 

Since Octavia met Lincoln their very first day in New York, they’ve been seeing one another constantly. Clarke knows she fell hard and fast for Lincoln. It makes her tense slightly. If only because she knows how easy it is for her to forget to be careful, to let go of all logic and dive headfirst into what feels good. 

Granted, she understands that Octavia can be sensible, but she did agree to marry a guy named _Atom_ only a couple of months ago. Clarke thinks she has a right to be worried. Even as much as she likes Lincoln and is sure that he’s a good person. Octavia’s so happy though, she can’t make herself stay on edge for long when he’s around. 

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Lincolns tells them. “I believe you,” he points to Finn. “Were about to spew from rich, white person crap.”

Octavia bumps her shoulder with Lincoln’s, and Clarke grins, shaking her head. Octavia jumps in, “And then we would’ve told _him_ to go back to his fancy, chrome apartment. You know, to make funeral preparations.” It might be a little cruel, but the statement's met with laughter and toasts to the fallen Evita. She can't help but ruffle Octavia's hair and laugh. 

It’s then that Finn seems to notice her for the first time. He doesn’t look annoyed, as she figured. It’s the look he’s giving everyone else, after all. Rather, he seems intrigued by her. 

Which she doesn’t care for at all. 

“Funny,” he says. “Though I suppose you’re bound to have a sense of humor when you live in a place where people piss on your stoop every night.”

Clarke fires back, “Better that than the stench of sell-outs and assholes who lack any kind of human decency.”

Bellamy gives her a wry smile at that, and Echo gives a nod of approval. She hasn’t gotten the chance to actually talk to her yet. Though from the way she’s practically in Raven’s lap, she can tell she’ll be seeing a lot of her. 

He shakes his head and returns to the three other men in suits who are at the table. But he glances back at Clarke a moment later. 

The only other person who seems to notice the way Finn has his eyes on her is Raven, who narrows her own even more, almost giving him a sneer. There’s definitely a complicated history, there. One she doesn’t know if she’s earned enough clout to be privy to. Clarke dismisses it though. It’s not as if anything’s going to happen with him. She hates him, already. If based on nothing than on principle. 

It’s then that Jasper chimes in, “He may have a point though.”

That grabs everyone’s attention. 

Jasper gets up from his seat next to Monty and circles around the table. Mimicking the way Finn did the same, placing his hands in his pockets, too. Right down to the way Finn walks. There are snickers all around and Monty even whistles. Finally, he settles at the table closest to Finn’s and props himself up on it. 

“Our way of life may have died, like the valiant Evita,” Jasper says, facing Finn but speaking to the rest of them. 

Miller snorts out a laugh at the mention of the dog, and Bryan smacks his shoulder lightly. He simply shrugs as a defense. 

“But!” Jasper continues. “We must carry on, live with the great memory of Bohemia in mind. It is not only what she deserves, but what she would want for us.”

Clarke looks at Bellamy, hoping to find a smile matching her own, only to see that he and Murphy are stifling laughs together. Bellamy’s hand is on Murphy’s shoulder. It’s such a small thing, she barely even thinks about it. At first. But then she remembers seeing them jostle one another towards an empty room at the party. It makes her throat close up. She knows it could be nothing, that it’s probably nothing. As far as she knows, Bellamy doesn’t even like guys like that. At least, he’s never said anything. But she never told him she likes girls, so really, it shouldn’t surprise her. 

But it isn’t that fact that makes her feel uncomfortable and itchy and sweaty. It’s the fact that Bellamy might have something real with Murphy. Like she thinks she might with Lexa. It’s not fair, she knows, to be upset that he could be with someone when she clearly is. It rattles her though. It makes her want to tell them to quit it and question if she should even be with Lexa at all if she’s this bothered. She stops herself before she can get any further. 

Bellamy had years to tell her if he felt anything for her. Despite that moment in the bar, which was months ago she reminds herself, nothing actually happened. It’s that idea that convinces her it isn’t worth it to hurt both Lexa and Murphy, and possibly, her friendship with Bellamy. He probably sees her like a little sister. She’s family, and he loves her, but not like _that_. If he wanted to be with her, she would know. 

Lexa’s thankfully too entertained by Jasper to notice her minor crisis. She’s never been more grateful for him, and he’s now standing up on top of the tables and is dancing around a bit. Someone (probably Echo or Miller) turns up the music until it’s nearly blasting. Harper is firing glares at the host, who looks steaming mad at their disruption. None of them care though. They say he's always been a dick, anyway. 

Jasper’s pointing at Finn, letting him know how much they all intend on continuing the so-called deceased lifestyle of Bohemia. Bellamy glances over at her and their eyes meet. He and Murphy’s arms are touching, which she notices even though she doesn’t want to. Clarke forces herself to meet his smile with one of her own. 

As Jasper continues his mocking, Echo jumps up with him. Eventually, Clarke's distracted enough for her smile to turn into a real one. But she knows the thought of Bellamy and Murphy will come back around, and she isn’t sure what she’s going to do about it when it returns. 

“And you can bet your ass,” Jasper says. “That we’ll be here long after you and your comrades here move on to destroying another part of the city.”

This is met with Murphy exclaiming, “The cockroach survives even the nuclear bomb of gentrification.”

At the same time Jasper and Murphy get out their jeers, Echo unbuttons her shorts, sliding them down her hips. Clarke starts buzzing with her own laughter as Echo moons Finn and the other men. Then Echo does a spin after pulling her clothes back on and descends into Raven’s lap. Where they promptly start making out. 

One of the older men clears his throat. Echo breaks the kiss and replies, “Don’t worry mister, she’s my sister.”

Which makes _everyone_ start laughing, especially as Finn’s look sours and he tries to explain away their behavior once more. Even though she’s just met Finn and his associates, she’s betting that that’s near impossible by now. 

It’s then that Bryan grabs her hand, and Clarke and him are helped up onto the tables together. Bryan leads her into a raunchy dance. The music hums through her as she shakes her ass and Bryan does twists and turns around her. Miller is cheering them on and Clarke whirls around before landing her gaze on Finn.

Again, he doesn’t meet her with dismissal or wrinkle his nose in disgust. _Well_ , she thinks, _he will once I open my mouth_. As the music’s blasting, she shouts over it, “And while you’re at it, why don’t you take those blockades and shove up your ass?” She grins. “Oh, shit, Echo already did that. Guess you’ll have to convince that frigid wife of yours to stick something else up there.” Bryan cheers and sweeps her in his arms, dipping her a bit. “Let me know if you need help with that!” And she winks for good measure.

The look on Finn’s face is one of the best things she’s ever seen. 

Meanwhile, Echo and Raven are practically laying on top of one of the tables. Echo’s lips are at Raven’s neck, making a trek down her low-cut top. 

“Sisters?” questions the man closest to Finn. He shoots him a disturbed look, which only makes Echo laugh, the sound of it ringing out even above the music.

“Yeah,” Miller adds with a smirk, pulling Bryan in close. “And we’re brothers.” He spins Bryan around with a dramatic flair and then back against him and kisses him deeply. 

The rest of them are dancing on the bar, the tables, the floor. Screaming out random words and lyrics. Anything to piss of Finn and the men with him. 

The music blares in her ears, and she dances with Miller on the bartop. He lifts her up and she places her hands on his shoulders as they continue a mad dance when he sets her down. All the while, a song she remembers from one of Bellamy’s early mixes sounds in her ears. 

_God save the queen_

_She's not a human being_

_and There's no future_

_And England's dreaming_

_Don't be told what you want_

_Don't be told what you need_

_There's no future_

_No future_

_No future for you_ _  
_

This might not be England in the late-70s, but the sentiment sticks regardless. No future, given the life they’ve chosen and the things they’ve seen and done? It feels about right. They’ve all made their choice to live this life as if each day as their last. At least, Clarke thinks she has. Without even really knowing that she did, or when.

  
  
Before her move to the city with Bellamy and Octavia, she never imagined the kind of person she’d become. But in the months of living at The Dropship, of figuring out who she really is, and can be, for the first time, she’s realized you only get one chance at this life. And by being around Murphy, Miller, and Bryan, she knows how quickly that life can turn. How fast time runs out. She doesn’t plan on wasting any more of hers. 

  
  
She’s dancing with Octavia and Lincoln, her and Lincoln on either side of Octavia as they move to the erratic beat of the music. It takes her a moment, but then she notices it. Bellamy and Murphy aren’t in the room anymore. 

  
  
“What happened to Bellamy and the cockroach?” Emori asks just as she’s thinking it. 

  
  
There’s a frown etched in Emori’s expression as she pauses her grinding with the punk guy she met at the party. Clarke doesn’t want to acknowledge it, but there’s something in the way she asked the question. Like she already knows where they are. And why. And what they’re doing. As much as she wants to deny it, hide from it, she thinks she knows it, too. 

  
  
She swallows down the thought as Lexa comes up with her and pulls her close, kissing her. Whatever. Bellamy can do as he pleases, she has someone _amazing_. Someone she never thought would ever go for her. She can be fine with him and Murphy. Really, she can be. If he’s happy, then, of course, she will be, too.

* * *

When Murphy pulled Bellamy outside, he thought they were gonna make out again. Maybe more. Everyone else is distracted, so it seems as good a time as any to sneak away for a hook-up. Except when Bellamy kisses him and pins him against the door in the alley, Murphy pushes him away after a minute or so.

  
  
‘Easy, tiger,” he says, making Bellamy walk backward a little so Murphy can get his back off the door. 

  
  
“Sorry,” Bellamy replies, sheepish and feeling embarrassed. 

  
  
Murphy shakes his head. “I didn’t do it because I don’t want to, believe me.” 

  
  
Bellamy frowns. “Then why?” 

  
  
Murphy blows out a bit of air. “You know this is gonna be a disaster. And it could fuck with everyone else, too.” He turns serious. “It could fuck with you and Clarke.”   
  


He disagrees, maybe a little too quickly, still not used to the idea of knowing he wants Clarke like that. “I don’t see how. I mean, she’s with Lexa. Nothing I can do about that.”

  
  
“So I’m your consolation prize?” he asks, but he knows Murphy isn’t even close to pissed because he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face. Like he’s already won a game Bellamy didn’t know they’re playing. 

  
  
“Dick,” he shoots back. He thinks of Emori, of the look on Murphy’s face when he watches her tease Jasper and Monty or chug a beer or anything, really, when he doesn’t think anyone notices. “No more than I’m yours.” 

  
  
Murphy shrugs. “You’re not a bad one.” Then he coughs and adds, before Bellamy can respond, “I don’t want you to do this with me if you’re not sure. Because frankly, I don’t have time to hold your hand through a sexual awakening.” 

  
  
He snorts, though he can’t deny Murphy has a point. He’s never done this before with a guy. Never even really thought about it before they kissed. He has a right to not want to deal with that shit. It might be awkward at times. Or he might not do the right thing or even know what the right thing is. Murphy might be an idiot and an asshole, but Bellamy has fun with him. There are worse things he could do. Worse people, too. 

  
  
Bellamy tells him, “No one fucking asked you to hold my hand. No offense to them, but we’re not exactly Bryan and Miller.” 

  
  
Murphy smirks. “Thank god for that.” He bumps his shoulder against Bellamy’s. It doesn’t feel like much, but he thinks it might say more than either of them are comfortable admitting out loud. 

  
  
Bellamy blows a breath into his hands and jumps a little, trying to get warmed up as much as he can. “Look, it’s cold as balls out here. So, unless I’m going to get some, I say we go back inside.” 

  
  
Murphy laughs at that and shoves him. “You’re such a sex-crazed idiot. I can’t believe I agreed to this.” 

  
  
He gives him a condescending look in response. “I’m a delight, you’re damn lucky and you know it.” 

  
  
“Maybe,” he allows as they step back into the café 

  
  
Everyone else is still dancing and shouting things. Finn and the other men are absent from their table. But that hasn’t seemed to stop any of his friends or random strangers from continuing their antics. Harper and Monty are grinding on a table and Jasper’s spinning around on another like he’s Elvis or something. 

  
  
He grins and moves to join the rest of them, but Murphy stops him before he can move too far away from the doorway to the alley. Pulling him in close, he sweeps a hand at the back of his neck and kisses him. It’s a quick one. Not because either one of them feels like stopping, he thinks. Rather, because all of their friends notice and start in on shouting out obscenities. Jasper and Monty give them matching wolf whistles. Miller laughs and tells Bryan, “I fucking said it, didn’t I?” And Echo even throws a stray condom at them. God knows why she has it on her. 

  
  
He finds Clarke in the crowd, Lexa with an arm around her shoulders. Lexa's laughing along with the rest of them. It’s a nice expression on her, even though he has to admit she still looks terrifying while she does it. Clarke seems a bit stunned, and he feels bad for not telling her. But how could he have? He and Murphy just started...Whatever they’re doing. He can’t be at fault for that. But maybe it’s something else, something he never thought was possible. 

  
  
The idea embeds itself in his mind even as he knows it’s ridiculous. For a second, Bellamy thinks he sees something like anger or hurt or _jealousy_ written across Clarke’s face. But as soon as he believes it’s there, it’s gone. She jeers at the two of them with the rest and jumps onto the bar with Raven and Echo, the three of them doing some dance from a movie. 

  
  
Clarke hops down from the bar as Murphy is dragged away by a drunk and hyped-up Jasper and Monty, off to dance with Harper and continue to salute to their way of life. 

  
  
Things are a bit tense between them before she says, “So you and Murphy, huh?” 

  
  
He decides to play it light. “So you and Lexa, huh? Just friends, I see.” 

  
  
She flushes bright pink at that. “Okay,” she nods. “I might have been lying about that. To myself, mostly.” She goes on, “But if you’re happy, then I’m happy.” 

  
  
Bellamy looks over at Murphy, who’s doing some horrible disco moves with Harper. “I’m happy,” he tells her. “And the same goes for you. It doesn’t matter to me who it is, as long as they’re good to you.” 

  
  
Her eyes shine at that and she reaches out and touches his arm. Her hand is warm and soft and he can feel it all the way done to the bone. Part of him hates the effect she has on him, but he knows he would miss it if it ever went away. 

  
  
“You’re amazing, you know that?” She tilts her head to the side and seems like she might say more about it. He doesn’t know if he could take it though, let alone that he deserves it. 

  
  
He responds, “Please. Like we both don’t know it’s you.”

“How about we both agree the amazing one is Octavia?” she proposes.

Bellamy laughs, but his eyes find where Octavia and Lincoln are dancing with Bryan and Miller. “Deal.”

Clarke’s pleased but cuts off the conversation before either one of them can admit anything more. Or worse, do something like burst out crying. “Enough of the corny.” She laughs and grabs his hand. “Let’s dance until that dick host bans us all for life.”

They do dance until the host banishes them, shouting at them even as they drunkenly make their way down the street. Murphy loops an arm around his waist. Clarke grins at him from where she’s tucked under Lexa’s arm. It occurs to Bellamy that he’s happy. Fully happy, at that. He doesn’t know if he’s ever felt it before. He thinks that since he’s gotten a taste of it now though, there’s no way he’s ever going back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song in the chapter was 'God Save the Queen' by Sex Pistols 
> 
> [here's the playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5zkTSpGoT1QL0KlWWUdltN?si=Kn52IDiWR924MyWmPT7VEw)
> 
> thank you for reading ❤︎


	8. You Take One Step and Miss the Whole Rung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! I wanna apologize for my month and a half absence from this story. a lot went on in my life, and then this chapter really tried to take me out. that said, I've worked really hard on this one, and I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> this one follows the development's Clarke and Bellamy are going through, in both their respective relationships and their relationship with one another. it also ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, so look out for that. 
> 
> as always, comments and kudos are amazing and I crave them because it keeps me motivated and believing in this story. that said, please keep any hate to yourself. you don't have to like this story, but really, be respectful. in addition, I spoke about this on my tumblr, but keep any mentions of the actors or their actions out of the comments. I am a survivor, please respect this. 
> 
> *chapter title from 'Bastards of Young' by The Replacements*
> 
> *tw for mentions of drug use*
> 
> sending love and good thoughts to all of you. 💖💜💙

Clarke falls in love with Lexa throughout that January and into February, but it’s not as easy as she imagined it would be. Not at all. And she knows it’s wrong, but a part of it is the fact that Murphy and Bellamy are doing...Whatever it is that they’re doing. They still haven’t defined it. Which she knows is their right. But it drives her a little mad, not knowing how serious things are. It makes it difficult to talk about it with Bellamy. So, they haven’t, not really. 

The other part is that Lexa and her friends shoot up at half the parties Clarke attends at her loft. 

She tells Lexa it’s fine. That she doesn’t care. That it’s all okay. She doesn’t tell her that her mom’s an addict. When she left Arkadia Springs behind, she wanted to leave all of that pain with it. But it won’t leave her, no matter how hard she tries. Lexa has never pressured her into joining her, but she knows the offer is there. A standing one, no judgments. 

Lexa says it’s like nothing she’s ever felt and Clarke pretends, especially to herself, that she isn’t interested in it.

Bellamy and Octavia both nearly loose it when they find out. They're at another party in some warehouse that Lexa had rented as an art space for her friends. Clarke had to push them both outside into the alley in the hopes of convincing them not to make a scene. 

“Fine,” Octavia settles. 

“But if she ever tries anything like your mom did with you…” Bellamy starts. 

“We’ll be handling it,” Octavia finishes. 

Clarke tries to tell them she doesn't need them to protect her. That Lexa isn't Abby. But no matter what she says, it only seems to make them more steadfast. Eventually, she gives up. If nothing else than because it's freezing and there's her favorite kind of beer inside.

Eventually, she caves. “Fine, but can we please go back inside now?”

They look at one another before nodding in unison. 

Sometimes she really hates them. 

Throughout her life, she’s seen what addiction could do. She saw the worst of it with Abby. And she also saw what it did to Murphy. One night, he breaks down some of the misconceptions she and Bellamy and Octavia have about it. That most addicts usually only hurt themselves, that it’s a real sickness, that all he wants is to be respected, and finally, managed to learn how to demand it. It makes her believe that Abby probably would’ve done the things she did even if she wasn’t an addict.

She knows it’s dangerous, but somehow, it makes her more comfortable with the drugs surrounding her life. 

Clarke does coke for the first time with Emori and Harper and Octavia. Echo and Raven are there too, but already on pills of some kind. At least, Echo, who’s been flirting off and on with a girl in ripped fishnets all night, definitely is. She figures Raven is too, given the fact that she isn’t spitting mad at her girlfriend for her actions. 

When she gets home, she goes straight to Bellamy. He’d gone out with the guys that night, but by the time she and the girls get home, the sky's a dark blue and she knows it'll be light soon. She pokes her head in and smiles. He’s strumming something on the guitar she got him. A notebook with his scrawled hand-writing in front of him on his mattress which lives on the floor. 

“Writing a masterpiece?” she questions, unable to help herself from grinning even more. 

He looks up and shakes his head. “Please. I’ll be lucky if I can figure out how to do a few chords.”

She knows his eyes zero in on her pupils as she saunters over and collapses down on his bed beside him. It takes him only a moment to put it together. He seems to hesitate, but finally goes for it. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

No judgment there, simply concern. It’s nice that he doesn’t push her or even fully acknowledge it. She supposes he really can’t since he gets high almost as often as the others these days. Still, she appreciates it.

“Yeah,” she nods, so sure of herself. But she knows part of that is the remnants of the drugs. 

When he doesn’t seem convinced, she shoves him lightly. “I’m okay, I promise. Just having fun, alright?”

He relaxes, only a little though, but he nods. “Alright, but you let me know if you need me to step in and tell the others.”

She laughs. “My hero.”

He shrugs, and seems to blush, too. “I try.” But a second later she thinks the blushing’s just her imagination. 

Even underneath they’re teasing, Clarke knows some of the awkwardness remains. They still haven’t discussed the fact that he’s hooking up with Murphy and she’s dating Lexa. It’s been over a month, and she’s starting to understand that he doesn’t think he has a right to bring it up. He wants to let her do as she wants, which she knows is her right, but really, they need to talk.

“Wanna go to the roof?” she proposes, thinking it might be easier to do this out in the open, but somehow also in private.

“Sure,” he says, setting down his guitar. 

He gets up from the bed and holds out a hand to help her up. She takes it, grateful, his hand firm in her own. Their hands both covered in calluses from years of work and grime and the burdens they shared too young. She knows that no matter what happens in their romantic lives, this will never change. No one will ever replace the importance of Bellamy in her life. And she hopes, _no_ , she’s sure of it. No one will ever do the same for him. They’re connected in a way that she doesn’t think she could be with anyone else. She loves Lexa, she isn’t scared of that anymore. But he’s still Bellamy and she’s Clarke and they’re meant to be in each other’s lives. Nothing will ever change that. 

They make their way onto the roof, trying to be as quiet as possible. They hear muffled moans from Harper’s room. They exchange a loaded look, trying their best to suppress their laughter. When they’re finally up on the roof, Clarke lets out a slow breath and settles down against the brick wall on the far end. 

“You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right?” Bellamy asks after a moment when she still hasn’t mustered up the ability to say anything. 

She nods. “I know.” Looking over at him, she smiles and adds, “And the same goes for you.”

He returns her smile, but she can tell he’s a little worried by her reasoning for bringing him up here. Not wanting to drag it out, she goes for it.

“I’m happy for you and Murphy,” she says. “I know I haven’t said it yet, so...I just want you to know.”

As she gets the words out, she knows they are a lie. She hates herself for it. It’s horrible and unfair and cruel. She loves Lexa, so why shouldn’t Bellamy have someone too? Even if he isn’t where she is in her relationship, he seems to be happy. She wants that for him, more than she even wants it for herself. So why does she feel like hitting the brick behind her at the thought of Murphy and Bellamy? It doesn’t make any sense. She’s never felt this way about Bellamy’s girlfriends before. This shouldn’t be any different. And yet, it is. 

Clarke’s still recovering from the lie when Bellamy tells her, “Really?” She’s proud of herself for managing a nod. 

He breathes out a sigh of relief, and it makes it all worth it. “Thank fucking god. I thought you were pissed at me.”

She swallows. “Why would you think that?” 

Please, please don’t let him suspect she’s hiding the truth from him. She doesn’t know how she’d explain it, and she knows if he suspected it, there’s no way he’d let go until she gave him a real answer. 

He shrugs, and so she stares him down. He’s not the only one who’s stubborn. 

Bellamy relents, “I don’t know. I figured...You might think it could mess with everyone else or that I wasn’t thinking. Which, honestly, might both be right. So, if you were pissed, I probably wouldn’t blame you. And then…” he trails off.

“What?” she asks. When he bites his lip, she reaches out and takes his hand in her own. “Bellamy…”

“I was scared you’d be upset that I didn’t tell you I was into guys. Like that.”

She stutters. “You thought I’d judge you?”

“No.” He sighs, but squeezes her hand, so she knows not to be too concerned. “I knew you would never do that, but...I thought you might be mad I kept it from you. Though, to my credit, _I_ didn’t even know I liked guys until Murphy kissed me.”

“That’s okay,” she responds. “You know that, don’t you? However you feel for whoever, it’s okay.” She shakes her head. “More than okay. I mean,” she huffs. “I wouldn’t exactly have a right to be mad if you did keep it from me. Not when I kept the same thing from you.”

“I don’t blame you,” he says, quickly. 

It makes her heartbeat pick up. With tenderness and love and devotion. She loves him _so much_. Because even as she goes to put it all on herself, he’s right there to assure her that she shouldn’t. Or at least, that she won’t have to bare it alone. She feels like she can finally breathe again. 

“You don’t?” 

Clarke suspected that he might, and she doesn’t think she could be mad at him if he did. Unlike him, she knew she liked girls. Knew that she felt things for them even if she couldn’t find the words to describe them before she moved to New York. Her and Bellamy tell each other everything, or almost everything. So, how could he simply accept that she hadn’t told him something as important as this?

“How can I? How would that ever be fair?” Bellamy shakes his head. “I would never be upset with you for not telling me.”

She believes him, she does. But a part of her can’t quite accept it. That it’s this easy. Nothing in her life has ever been. Except for the last half-dozen months. Those have flown by with endless laughs and fun and a lightness she’s never known. It makes her pause though, that this is as simple as the rest. 

“Why?” she gets out. “I just...I thought that you would be.”

He frowns. “You did?”

Then she realizes she’s hurt him, and even if she didn’t mean it, she’s worried how she’ll convince him that it isn’t about him. That she’s been worried about her and Lexa, and her sexuality in general (which Murphy told her she doesn’t need to put a label on ever if she doesn’t want to, but it sounds like she’s bi). That it’s her own mind plaguing her with the idea that Bellamy, her person, her partner in everything, might not accept the fact that she chose to keep it from him. 

“Not because I think less of you,” she backpedals. “But because of _me_. I guess it’s been a hard adjustment. Going from hiding it all the time Arkadia Springs to being so open here.”

It does feel good, to be open. She can sense that Bellamy feels the same. But that doesn’t erase the years of feeling like she had to hide part of herself away. That she figured she might have to forever.

She goes on, “You’re one of the most important people in my life, Bellamy, and I thought you might be hurt that I didn’t tell you the truth.”

“Clarke…” He pauses and rubs his thumb over her hand. She feels that no matter what he says, he’ll manage to make her feel better. It’s just how he is. It’s just how _they_ are. 

“Of course, if you told me I would’ve been there for you.” He swallows. “And I hate that we grew up in a place where you felt you had to hide any part of yourself because it wouldn’t be accepted.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” she says, but knows her tone isn’t as cavalier as she hoped it would be. 

“It was bullshit,” he asserts.

She can’t argue with him. 

“But I would never be upset with you for keeping this from me. Maybe it sucks that I wasn’t able to be there for you, but you told me, eventually.”

“Well…” she trails off. 

After all, she didn’t exactly tell him as be painfully obvious whenever she was around Lexa or talked about her. 

“My point stands.” He smiles a little. “Maybe it didn’t go down in the way we normally handle things, but you did tell me. And you’re happy.” His smile grows but he remains serious. “How could I ever not want that for you?”

“But—” she starts.

He cuts her off, saying, “No buts. You deserve this. You _need_ this, I think. So if you get to be happy that I’m exploring shit with Murphy, then I get to be happy you’ve found someone you love.”

This whole time with Lexa, she’s known that the rest of her friends aren’t as in love with her as she is. Which she does get. But it feels good to have Bellamy’s approval. To know that even if he doesn’t think Lexa’s amazing, that he still supports her. That he wants her to be happy. She already knew that, of course, but it feels good to hear the words. She doesn’t know why she needs his assurance so much. It scares her to think about it. So she doesn’t let herself get too close because she feels it there. The truth of it. Lurking just beneath the surface. And she knows that once she lets herself see it, there will be no going back. 

Pushing the dangerous thoughts away, she bites her lip and laughs a bit. “Okay, I admit defeat.”

He returns her laugh with one of his own. “About time. Who knew it would take both of us coming out for me to win an argument.”

Clarke swats his shoulder. “I’ve let you win plenty of times.”

He rolls his eyes. “The whole ‘I let you’ really doesn’t help your argument, you know that, right?”

“Shut up.” She juts out her chin. “I told you won this time, didn’t I?”

Bellamy sighs, but nods. “I suppose I can let you have that one.”

She grins, triumph in her voice as she tells him, “Ha. I tricked you again into giving me yet another victory.”

He scoffs. “Please, if anything, I let you win.”

They burst out laughing together, their combined happiness ringing out in the night air. Clarke used to think they would never have this. This ease. Even during the times they’d find some kind of excitement or trouble or even entertainment back in Pennsylvania, it was always tainted by the reality. The thoughts that they would never escape. That they were doomed for the life of their parents. That things would never get better so it wasn’t worth trying. But they did try. And now, they had something beautiful. 

“Come on, let’s try and get some sleep before Murphy starts rattling around in the kitchen,” she says when their laughter has died down. 

She stands and extends her hand, and she’s never felt so grounded as when Bellamy takes it. 

It’s later, when she’s lying in bed, that the thought slips through her mind. So fast she can’t even believe it for a second. Clarke believed she was able to keep it at bay, even during that moment on the roof. But she supposes one can only deny the truth for so long before it forces you to look at it. 

It’s Bellamy. It’s always been Bellamy. All her life, as short as it’s been so far, it has been him. He’s been by her side when she didn’t have anyone. Him and Octavia, yes, for which she can never stop being grateful. But she knew that already. What she didn’t know was just in what way Bellamy’s had an impact on her. He’s a piece of her, embedded in her heart so thoroughly that she doesn’t know if it isn't just all his. 

She loves Lexa, she tells herself, and she does believe it. She feels it. But what she feels for Bellamy suppresses love and desire. It’s _more_. Clarke can’t even be sure how she knows this when she can’t even put words to it. But she does. She knows it. He’s Bellamy. And even when they’re with other people, she’s his. 

He means more to her than she could’ve ever imagined. But it’s too late, a voice tells her. She isn’t sure if it’s Abby’s or her own or something else entirely. It’s too late for her to tell him. The realization came too late, and the thought makes her whole body ache. 

She tosses and turns in her bed, seeking refuge in a dreamless sleep. It doesn’t come. Not when her brain is so busy thinking of all the things she and Bellamy are. All the things they will never be because she missed her chance. She reminds herself that even if she feels this way, it doesn’t mean he does. The idea won’t take root though. She somehow knows different. 

So, she tries telling herself that it doesn’t matter. That doesn’t work either. Not even a little. It’s cruel, she thinks, for her to know how much Bellamy means to her, and in what way, just when they’re impossible. Octavia knows, she must. Clarke wonders if everyone does. It paralyzes her. She’s a fool, and now she’ll have to settle for having the fragmented pieces of Bellamy he can give her. The pieces she can give him, even when she wants to give everything. Her life has never been lucky or easy. But this, this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to her. 

She never does fall asleep. 

Clarke is still reeling from the realization after her and Bellamy’s talk on the roof, even weeks later. 

Bellamy and her talk more after that, and there’s an ease to their relationship that momentarily felt tense following her falling for Lexa and him hooking up with Murphy. But she can’t shake the way her heart clenches whenever he laughs at her joke or makes her smile so hard it hurts. She can’t stop the way she wants him, how she notices him now. Maybe in a way she always has, but didn’t recognize until now. 

It makes her life much more difficult than she’d like. The worst part is she has to lie to Bellamy that there’s nothing wrong. He tries bringing it up, but she soothes his worries. Her lies making her choke while she struggles to sleep. Lexa beside her. It makes her feel even worse, the way Lexa cares for her. She should end it, she knows that. But she doesn’t want to be alone, and she does love her. Clarke hopes, stupidly perhaps, but hopes nonetheless, that the feelings for Bellamy will go away with time. 

They’re all at yet another one of Lexa’s parties when she takes a step she knows she can never take back. And even if she doesn’t see it in the moment, she understands later that she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t wish for Bellamy so badly. 

The truth of it is awful, and she hates the idea that he would blame himself if he ever knew. But she can’t hide from herself. Not anymore.

Lexa’s got an arm around her waist and even though Murphy and Bellamy nor Echo and Raven are touching, everyone can tell they’re together by the way they move around one another. And the jokes about sex Murphy keeps cracking. Clarke holds back a wince at every single one.

_I’m happy for them. I’m happy for them. I’m happy for them._

She repeats it like a mantra, trying to convince herself of it. Like if she says it in her head enough times, it might actually come true. But then she meets Bellamy’s eye. He’s rolling his own and laughing, so unbelievably bright. She knows it’s useless. No matter what she does or tells herself, it will never erase that feeling she has when she sees him so happy. Or the fact that she sees that it's Murphy who’s bringing it out.

There are a couple of people ducking into one of the bedrooms or the back room or the bathroom every now and then. Clarke barely notices, though she knows they’re all doing coke or heroin or pills. Anything to relieve the pain of being them. The sorrow they don’t have a name for yet, or if they do, they’re too afraid to confront. She’s too busy lost in thought and paying attention to Bellamy for any of it to really register. 

She almost misses Lexa excuse herself to go off with Gus and another girl she only sort of recognizes. But before she leaves, Clarke catches her hand.

“Wait,” she says. “I’ll come, too.”

The moment shatters her friends’ resolve and image of her into a million pieces.

Clarke does not fall into the category as someone who would do heroin. And she knows, given Murphy’s history, none of them do, either. They might do a lot of stupid shit. Might snort lines and swallow pills and drink more than anyone ever should, but they don’t do this. Until now. Until she's decided to. 

She doesn’t know why she even does it, until later. Why this moment is the one that changes everything for her. Hell, she isn’t even sure when she became okay with the idea. Or when the thought of shooting up started to appeal to her. She doesn’t want to think though. Or feel what she does. She wants to escape. And Lexa’s offering a one-way ticket. 

Raven crosses her arms over her chest and Clarke knows she’s disappointed her. Murphy’s expression is stony but there’s something else. Yearning. He wants it, too, she can tell. Echo’s at a loss for words for once, and plays with a dangling earring, sweeping some of her flowing hair behind her ear. Jasper looks pale and Harper and Monty exchange a silent glance.

“You’re kidding,” Octavia dismisses. “Right?”

Clarke juts out her chin, suddenly feeling defensive even when she knows she has no right to be. “Why would I kid about this?”

Octavia’s brow furrows, but it’s Bellamy who answers, “What the hell are you doing Clarke?”

She shrugs and lets out, “I’m just having fun, alright? I don’t get the big deal.”

He shakes his head, shock written all over his face. “You don’t get the big deal?” he repeats. He can’t believe this is happening, and frankly, neither can she. “But why this? I mean...What’s going on? The fuck are you thinking? This isn’t you.”

She doesn’t know what she’s thinking. Only that she needs to escape. Needs to block out her mess of emotions and mess of a life. Clarke finally has a good life. A fun one. A happy one. And her stupid heart is going to ruin it all. So, she can’t bear it. Not right now. Even if it’s only a momentary break, she needs it. Craves it already, though she hasn’t had the drug yet. 

“You’re not my keeper, Bellamy. You don’t get to make my decisions for me. It’s not your life,” she tells him, colder than she intends. 

It’s so damn sad, the look on his face. She can’t make herself continue to meet his eye. Clarke looks back at Lexa. At least with her, there is no questioning. No demands for her to look at why she’s doing this. There’s just acceptance. And that’s what she needs right now. 

Lexa doesn’t seem to pay them any mind. She smiles a bit and asks her, “You sure?”

Clarke looks back at Bellamy for a moment, she can’t help it. He’s gaping at her, his previous words hanging in the air. She turns back to Lexa and returns her smile. 

“I’m sure.”

She takes Lexa’s hand and lets her lead her into a spare bedroom, following Gus and the other girl. She takes a breath, pauses for a second, and then settles down on the floor with the rest of them. 

And Lexa’s right. It isn’t like anything else in the world. There’s barely words to describe it. Nothing has ever made her feel so whole or empty all at once. Nothing has made her feel so complete and special. _More_. 

Except maybe the way Bellamy makes her feel, she thinks. 

But she doesn’t have time to settle on the thought. She’s already drifting away. Far above her own body and the party and the loft and Earth. She’s already gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading ❤︎
> 
> find me on tumblr (@animmortalist)
> 
> [find the playlist here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5zkTSpGoT1QL0KlWWUdltN?si=idUjKaSCSISCxORtfhKPmw)


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